Harlequin 

and 
Columbine 


BOOKS  BY 
BOOTH  TARKINGTON 


ALICE  ADAMS 

BEASLEY'S  CHRISTMAS  PARTY 
BEAUTY  AND  THE  JACOBIN 

CHERRY 

CONQUEST  OF  CANAAN 

HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

HIS  OWN  PEOPLE 

IN  THE  ARENA 
MONSIEUR  BEAUCAIRE 

PENROD 

PENROD  AND  SAM 
RAMSEY  MILHOLLAND 

SEVENTEEN 
THE  BEAUTIFUL  LADY 

THE  FLIRT 
THE  GENTLEMAN  FROM  INDIANA 

THE  GUEST  OF  QUESNAY 

THE  MAGNIFICENT  AMBERSONS 

THE  MAN  FROM  HOME 

THE  TURMOIL 
THE  TWO  VANREVELS 


"7i  wat>  an  vM#  dqn^er  p6{ce^that  spoke  just  behind 
Talbot  Potter,  and  he  turned  to  stare  at  a  little  figure 
in  black." 


Frontispiece  by 
E.  Stetson  Craw] or d 


Garden  City  New  York 

Double  day,  'Page  &  Company 

1022 


(ft 

ha 


COPYRIGHT,   IQiS,  1921,  BY 
DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 

ALL    RIGHTS    RESERVED,    INCLUDING    THAT    OF    TRANSLATION 
INTO    FOREIGN    LANGUAGES,    INCLUDING    THE    SCANDINAVIAN 

COPYRIGHT,   1914,  BY  THE  METROPOLITAN  PUBLICATIONS,  INC. 

PRINTED  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES 

AT 
THE  COUNTRY  LIFE  PRESS,  GARDEN  CITY,  N.  Y. 


"Harlequin  and  Columbine"  was  written  almost 
ten  years  ago,  and  even  then  the  particular 
aspect  of  the  stage  offered  to  view  in  the  story 
was  faded  and  passing.  Probably  no  more  than 
traces  could  now  be  found  remotely  lingering,  for 
the  theatre  has  been  moving  a  long  way  toward 
truthfulness.  That  it  has  so  moved  must  be 
acknowledged  as  due  in  no  little  part  to  the 
impulse  of  journalist  criticism,  and,  although  the 
writer  has  sometimes  most  querulously  complained 
of  the  very  critics  who  stir  forward  the  advance, 
this  small  book  is  heartily  inscribed  to  them. 

BOOTH  TARKINGTON. 


527-247 


Harlequin 

and 
Columbine 


FOR  a  lucky  glimpse  of  the  great 
Talbot    Potter,     the     girls     who 
caught    it    may  thank  that  con 
junction  of  Olympian  events  which  brings 
within  the  boundaries  of  one  November 
week  the  Horse  Show  and  the  roaring 
climax  of  the  football  months  and  the 
more  dulcet,  yet  vast,  beginning  of  the 
opera    season.     Some    throbbing    of    at 
tendant  multitudes  coming  to  the  ears 
of  Talbot  Potter,  he  obeyed  an  inward 
call  to  walk  to  rehearsal  by  way  of  Fifth 
3 


4        HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

Avenue,  and  turning  out  of  Forty -fourth 
Street  to  become  part  of  the  people-sea 
of  the  southward  current,  felt  the  eyes 
of  the  northward  beating  upon  his  face 
like  the  pulsing  successions  of  an  exhila 
rating  surf.  His  Fifth  Avenue  knew  its 
Talbot  Potter. 

Strangers  used  to  leisurely  appraisals 
upon  their  own  thoroughfares  are  apt  to 
believe  that  Fifth  Avenue  notices  nothing; 
but  they  are  mistaken;  it  is  New  York 
that  is  preoccupied,  not  Fifth  Avenue. 
The  Fifth  Avenue  eye,  like  a  policeman's, 
familiar  with  a  variety  of  types,  cata 
logues  you  and  replaces  you  upon  the 
shelf  with  such  automatic  rapidity  that 
you  are  not  aware  you  have  been  taken 
down.  Fifth  Avenue  is  secretly  populous 
with  observers  who  take  note  of  every 
thing. 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE        5 

Of  course,  among  these  peregrinate 
great  numbers  almost  in  a  stupor  so  far 
as  what  is  closest  around  them  is  con 
cerned:  and  there  are  those,  too,  who  are 
so  completely  busied  with  either  the  con 
sciousness  of  being  noticed,  or  the  hope 
of  being  noticed,  or  the  hatred  of  it, 
that  they  take  note  of  nothing  else. 
Fifth  Avenue  expressions  are  a  filling  meal 
for  the  prowling  lonely  joker;  but  what 
will  most  satisfy  his  cannibal  appetite  is 
the  passage  of  the  self-conscious  men  and 
women.  For  here,  on  a  good  day,  he 
cannot  fail  to  relish  some  extreme  cases 
of  their  whimsical  disease:  fledgling  young 
men  making  believe  to  be  haughty  to 
cover  their  dreadful  symptoms,  the  mask 
itself  thus  revealing  what  it  seeks  to  con 
ceal;  timid  young  ladies,  likewise  treach 
erously  exposed  by  their  defences;  and 


6        HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

very  different  ladies,  but  in  similar  case, 
being  retouched  ladies,  tinted  ladies;  and 
ladies  who  know  that  they  are  pretty  at 
first  sight,  ladies  who  chat  with  some  ob 
scured  companion  only  to  offer  the  public 
a  treat  of  graceful  gestures;  and  poor  ladies 
making  believe  to  be  rich  ladies ;  and  rich 
ladies  making  believe  to  be  important 
ladies;  and  many  other  sorts  of  con 
scious  ladies.  And  men — ah,  pitiful! — 
pitiful  the  wretch  whose  hardihood  has 
involved  him  in  cruel  and  unusual  great 
gloss  and  unsheltered  tailed  coat.  Any 
man  in  his  overcoat  is  wrapped  in  his 
castle:  he  fears  nothing.  But  to  this 
hunted  creature,  naked  in  his  robin's 
tail,  the  whole  panorama  of  the  Avenue 
is  merely  a  blurred  audience,  focusing 
upon  him  a  vast  glare  of  derision:  he 
walks  swiftly,  as  upon  fire,  pretends  to 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE  7 
careless  sidelong  interest  in  shop-windows 
as  he  goes,  makes  play  with  his  unfamiliar 
cane  only  to  be  horror-stricken  at  the 
flourishings  so  evoked  of  his  wild  gloves; 
and  at  last,  fairly  crawling  with  the  eyes 
he  feels  all  over  him,  he  must  draw  forth 
his  handkerchief  and  shelter  behind  it, 
poor  man,  in  the  dishonourable  affecta 
tion  of  a  sneeze! 

Piquant  contrast  to  these  obsessions, 
the  well-known  expression  of  Talbot  Pot 
ter  lifted  him  above  the  crowd  to  such 
high  serenity  his  face  might  have  been 
that  of  a  young  Pope  borne  along  in  his 
chair — an  incredibly  handsome  youn^ 
Pope,  with  a  dash  of  Sidney  Carton. 
His  glance  fixed  itself,  in  its  benign  de 
tachment,  upon  the  misty  top  of  the  Flat- 
iron,  far  down  the  street,  and  the  more 
frequent  the  plainly  visible  recognitions 


8        HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

among  the  north-bound  people,  the  less 
he  seemed  aware  of  them.  And  yet, 
whenever  the  sieving  current  of  pedes 
trians  brought  momentarily  face  to  face 
with  him  a  girl  or  woman,  apparently 
civilized  and  in  the  mode,  who  obviously 
had  never  seen  him  before  and  seemed 
not  to  care  if  it  should  be  her  fate  never 
to  repeat  the  experience,  Talbot  Potter 
had  a  certain  desire.  If  society  had 
established  a  rule  that  all  men  must  in 
stantly  obey  and  act  upon  every  fleeting 
impulse,  Talbot  Potter  would  have  taken 
that  girl  or  woman  by  the  shoulders  and 
said  to  her: 

"What's  the  matter  with  you!" 
At  Forty-second  Street  he  crossed  over, 
proceeded  to  the  middle  of  the  block,  and 
halted  dreamily  on  the  edge  of  the  pave 
ment,  his  back  to  the  crowd.     His  face 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE        9 

was  toward  the  Library,  with  its  two  an 
noyed  pet  lions,  typifying  learning,  and  he 
appeared  to  study  the  great  building.  One 
or  two  of  the  passersby  had  seen  him 
standing  on  that  self -same  spot  before; — in 
fact,  he  always  stopped  there  whenever 
he  walked  down  the  Avenue. 

For  a  little  time  (not  too  long)  he  stood 
there;  and  thus  absorbed  he  was,  as  they 
say,  a  Picture.  Moreover,  being  such  a 
popular  one,  he  attracted  much  interest. 
People  paused  to  observe  him;  and  all 
unaware  of  their  attention,  he  suddenly 
smiled  charmingly,  as  at  some  gentle 
pleasantry  in  his  own  mind — something 
he  had  remembered  from  a  book,  no 
doubt.  It  was  a  wonderful  smile,  and 
vanished  slowly,  leaving  a  rapt  look:  evi 
dently  he  was  lost  in  musing  upon  archi 
tecture  and  sculpture  and  beautiful  books. 


10      HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

A  girl  whisking  by  in  an  automobile  had 
time  to  guess,  reverently,  that  the  phrase 
in  his  mind  was:  "A  Stately  Home  for 
Beautiful  Books!"  Dinner-tables  would 
hear,  that  evening,  how  Talbot  Potter 
stood  there,  oblivious  of  everything  else, 
studying  the  Library ! 

This  slight  sketch  of  artistic  reverie 
completed,  he  went  on,  proceeding  a  little 
more  rapidly  down  the  Avenue;  presently 
turned  over  to  the  stage  door  of  Wallack's, 
made  his  way  through  the  ensuing  pas 
sages,  and  appeared  upon  the  vasty  stage 
of  the  old  theatre,  where  his  company  of 
actors  awaited  his  coming  to  begin  the 
rehearsal  of  a  new  play. 


F 


II 

""•"""MUST   act,    please,    ladies    and 
gentlemen!" 

Thus  spake,  without  emotion, 
Packer,  the  stage-manager;  but  out  in  the 
dusky  auditorium,  Stewart  Canby,  the 
new  playwright,  began  to  tremble.  It  was 
his  first  rehearsal. 

He  and  one  other  sat  in  the  shadowy 
hollow  of  the  orchestra,  two  obscure  little 
shapes  on  the  floor  of  the  enormous  cav 
ern.  The  other  was  Talbot  Potter's  man 
ager,  Carson  Tinker,  a  neat,  grim,  small 
11 


12  HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 
old  man  with  a  definite  appearance  of 
having  long  ago  learned  that  after  a 
little  while  life  will  beat  anybody's  game, 
no  matter  how  good.  He  observed  the 
nervousness  of  the  playwright,  but  with 
out  interest.  He  had  seen  too  many. 

Young  Canby's  play  was  a  study  of 
egoism,  being  the  portrait  of  a  man 
wholly  given  over  to  selfish  ambitions 
finally  attained,  but  "at  the  cost  of  every 
good  thing  in  his  life,"  including  the  loss 
of  his  "honour,"  his  lady-love,  and  the 
trust  and  affection  of  his  friends.  Young 
Canby  had  worked  patiently  at  his  man 
uscript,  rewriting,  condensing,  pouring 
over  it  the  sincere  sweat  of  his  brow  and 
the  light  of  his  boarding-house  lamp 
during  most  of  the  evenings  of  two  years, 
until  at  last  he  was  able  to  tell  his  con 
fidants,  rather  huskily,  that  there  was 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE      13 

"not  one  single  superfluous  word  in  it," 
not  one  that  could  possibly  be  cut,  nor 
one  that  could  be  changed  without  "al 
tering  the  significance  of  the  whole  work." 

The  moment  was  at  hand  when  he  was 
to  see  the  vision  of  so  many  toilsome  hours 
begin  to  grow  alive.  What  had  been  no 
more  than  little  black  marks  on  white 
paper  was  now  to  become  a  living  voice 
vibrating  the  actual  air.  No  wonder, 
then,  that  tremors  seized  him:  Pygma 
lion  shook  as  Galatea  began  to  breathe, 
and  to  young  Canby  it  was  no  less  a 
miracle  that  his  black  marks  and  white 
paper  should  thus  come  to  life. 

"Miss  Ellsling!"  called  the  stage-man 
ager.  "  Miss  Ellsling,  you're  on.  You're 
on  artificial  stone  bench  in  garden,  down 
right.  Mr.  Nippert,  you're  on.  You're 
over  yonder,  right  cen — 


14       HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

"Not  at  all!"  interrupted  Talbot  Pot 
ter,  who  had  taken  his  seat  at  a  small 
table  near  the  trough  where  the  foot 
lights  lay  asleep,  like  the  row  of  night- 
watchmen  they  were.  "Not  at  all!"  he 
repeated  sharply,  thumping  the  table 
with  his  knuckles.  "That's  all  out.  It's 
cut.  Nippert  doesn't  come  on  in  this 
scene  at  all.  You've  got  the  original 
script  there,  Packer.  Good  heavens! 
Packer,  can't  you  ever  get  anything  right? 
Didn't  I  distinctly  tell  you——  Here! 
Come  here !  Not  garden  set,  at  all.  Play 
it  interior,  same  as  act  second.  Look, 
Packer,  look!  Miss  Ellsling  down  left, 
in  chair  by  escritoire.  In  heaven's  name, 
can  you  read,  Packer?" 

"Yessir,  yessir.  I  see,  sir,  I  see!"  said 
Packer  with  piteous  eagerness,  taking 
the  manuscript  the  star  handed  him. 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE       15 

"Now,  then,  Miss  Ellsling,  if  you 
please — — 

"I  will  have  my  tea  indoors,"  Miss 
Ellsling  began  promptly,  striking  an 
imaginary  bell.  "I  will  have  my  tea 
indoors,  to-day,  I  think,  Pritchard.  It 
is  cooler  indoors,  to-day,  I  think,  on  the 
whole,  and  so  it  will  be  pleasanter  to  have 
my  tea  indoors  to-day.  Strike  bell  again. 
Do  you  hear,  Pritchard?" 

Out  in  the  dimness  beyond  the  stage 
the  thin  figure  of  the  new  playwright  rose 
dazedly  from  an  orchestra  chair. 

"What — what's  this?"  he  stammered, 
the  choked  sounds  he  made  not  reaching 
the  stage. 

"What's  the  matter?"  The  question 
came  from  Carson  Tinker,  but  his  tone 
was  incurious,  manifesting  no  interest 
whatever.  Tinker's  voice,  like  his  pale, 


16      HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

spectacled  glance,  was  not  tired;  it  was 
dead. 

"Tea!"  gasped  Canby.  "People  are 
sick  of  tea!  I  didn't  write  any  tea!" 

"There  isn't  any/'  said  Tinker.  "The 
way  he's  got  it,  there's  an  interruption  be 
fore  the  tea  comes,  and  it  isn't  brought  in." 

"But  she's  ordered  it!  If  it  doesn't 
come  the  audience  will  wonder — — " 

"No,"  said  Tinker.  "They  won't 
think  of  that.  They  won't  hear  her  order 
it." 

"Then,  for  heaven's  sake,  why  has  he 
put  it  in?  I  wrote  this  play  to  begin 
right  in  the  story — — " 

"That's  the  trouble.  They  never  hear 
the  beginning.  They're  slamming  seats, 
taking  off  wraps,  looking  round  to  see 
who's  there.  That's  why  we  used  to  be 
gin  plays  with  servants  dusting  and  '  Well- 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE       17 

I  -  never  -  half  -  past  -  nine  -  and  -  the  -  young- 
master-not-yet-risen !'  ' 

"  I  wrote  it  to  beginwith  a  garden  scene," 
Canby  protested,  unheeding.  "  Why— 

"He's  changed  this  act  a  good  deal." 

"But  I  wrote—" 

"  He  never  uses  garden  sets.  Not  inti 
mate  enough;  and  they're  a  nuisance  to 
light.  I  wouldn't  worry  about  it." 

"But  it  changes  the  whole  signifi — — " 

"Well,  talk  to  him  about  it,"  said 
Tinker,  adding  lifelessly,  "I  wouldn't 
argue  with  him  much,  though.  I  never 
knew  anybody  do  anything  with  him  that 
way  yet." 

Miss  Ellsling,  on  the  stage,  seemed  to 
be  supplementing  this  remark.  "Roderick 
Hanscom  is  a  determined  man,"  she  said, 
in  character.  "He  is  hard  as  steel  to  a 
treacherous  enemy,  but  he  is  tender  and 


18      HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

gentle  to  women  and  children.  Only  yes 
terday  I  saw  him  pick  up  a  fallen  crippled 
child  from  beneath  the  relentless  horses' 
feet  on  a  crossing,  at  the  risk  of  his  very 
life,  and  then  as  he  placed  it  in  the 
mother's  arms,  he  smiled  that  wonderful 
smile  of  his,  that  wonderful  smile  of  his 
that  seems  to  brighten  the  whole  world! 
Wait  till  you  meet  him.  But  that  is  his 
step  now  and  you  shall  judge  for  your 
selves  !  Let  us  rise,  if  you  please,  to  give 
him  befitting  greeting." 

"What— what!"  gasped  Canby. 

"Sh!"  Tinker  whispered. 

"But  all  I  wrote  for  her  to  say,  when 
Roderick  Hanscom's  name  is  mentioned, 
was,  el  don't  think  I  like  him.'  My 
God!" 

"Shi" 

"The  Honourable  Robert  Hanscom!" 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE      19 

shouted  Packer,  in  a  ringing  voice  as  a 
stage-servant,  or  herald. 

"It  gives  him  an  entrance,  you  see," 
murmured  Tinker.  "Your  script  just 
let  him  walk  on." 

"And  all  that  horrible  stuff  about  his 
'wonderful  smile!'"  Canby  babbled. 
"Think  of  his  putting  that  in  himself." 

"Well,  you  hadn't  done  it  for  him.  It 
is  a  wonderful  smile,  isn't  it?" 

"My  God!" 

"Sh!" 

Talbot  Potter  had  stepped  to  the  cen 
tre  of  the  stage  and  was  smiling  the  won 
derful  smile.  "Mildred,  and  you,  my 
other  friends,  good  friends,"  he  began, 
"for  I  know  that  you  are  all  true  friends 
here,  and  I  can  trust  you  with  a  secret 
very  near  my  heart— 

"Most  of   them   are   supposed   never 


20      HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

to  have  seen  him  before,"  said  Canby, 
hoarsely.     "  And  she's  just  told  them  they 
could  judge  for  themselves  when — — " 
"They  won't  notice  that." 
"You  mean  the  audience  won't' — — " 
"No,  they  won't,"  said  Tinker. 
"But  good  heavens!  it's  'Donald  Gray,' 
the  other  character,  that  trusts  him  with 
the  secret,  and  he  betrays  it  later.     This 

upsets  the  whole " 

"Well,  talk  to  him.     I  can't  help  it." 
"It  is  a  political  secret,"  Potter  con 
tinued,  reading  from  a  manuscript  in  his 
hand,  "and  almost  a  matter  of  life  and 
death.     But  I  trust  you  with  it  openly 

and  fearlessly  because " 

At  this  point  his  voice  was  lost  in  a 
destroying  uproar.  Perceiving  that  the 
rehearsal  was  well  under  way,  and  that 
the  star  had  made  his  entrance,  two  of 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE      21 

the  stage-hands  attached  to  the  theatre 
ascended  to  the  flies  and  set  up  a  great 
bellowing  on  high.  "Lower  that  strip!" 
"  You  don't  want  that  strip  lowered,  I  tell 
you !"  "  Oh,  my  Lord !  Cant  you  lower  that 
strip!'9  Another  workman  at  the  rear 
of  the  stage  began  to  saw  a  plank,  and 
somebody  else,  concealed  behind  a  bit  of 
scenery,  hammered  terrifically  upon  metal. 
Altogether  it  was  a  successful  outbreak. 

Potter  threw  his  manuscript  upon 
the  table,  a  gesture  that  caused  the 
shoulders  of  Packer  to  move  in  a  visible 
shudder,  and  the  company,  all  eyes  fixed 
upon  the  face  of  the  star,  suddenly  wore 
the  look  of  people  watching  a  mysterious 
sealed  packet  from  which  a  muffled  tick 
ing  is  heard.  The  bellowing  and  the  saw 
ing  and  the  hammering  increased  in  fury. 

In  the  orchestra  a  rusty  gleam  of  some- 


22      HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

thing  like  mummified  pleasure  passed 
unseen  behind  the  spectacles  of  old  Car 
son  Tinker.  "  Stage-hands  are  the  devil," 
he  explained  to  the  stupefied  Canby. 
"  Rehearsals  bore  them  and  they  love  to 
hear  what  an  actor  says  when  his  nerves 
go  to  pieces.  If  Potter  blows  up  they'll 
quiet  down  to  enjoy  it  and  then  do  it 
again  pretty  soon.  If  he  doesn't  blow  up 
he'll  take  it  out  on  somebody  else  later." 

Potter  stood  silent  in  the  centre  of  the 
stage,  expressionless,  which  seemed  to 
terrify  the  stage-manager.  "Just  one 
second,  Mr.  Potter!"  he  screamed,  his 
brow  pearly  with  the  anguish  of  appre 
hension.  "Just  one  second,  sir!" 

He  went  hotfoot  among  the  disturbers, 
protesting,  commanding,  imploring,  and 
plausibly  answering  severe  questions. 
"Well,  when  do  you  expect  us  to  git  this 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE      23 

work  done?"  "We  got  our  work  to  do, 
ain't  we?"  until  finally  the  tumult  ceased, 
the  saw  slowing  down  last  of  all,  tapering 
off  reluctantly  into  a  silence  of  plaintive 
disappointment;  whereupon  Packer  re 
sumed  his  place,  under  a  light  at  the  side 
of  the  stage,  turning  the  pages  of  his  manu 
script  with  fluttering  fingers  and  keeping 
his  eyes  fixed  guiltily  upon  it.  The  com 
pany  of  actors  also  carefully  removed  their 
gaze  from  the  star  and  looked  guilty. 

Potter  allowed  the  fatal  hush  to  con 
tinue,  while  the  culpability  of  Packer  and 
the  company  seemed  mysteriously  to  in 
crease  until  they  all  reeked  with  it.  The 
stage-hands  had  withdrawn  in  a  grieved 
manner  somewhere  into  the  huge  rear 
ward  spaces  of  the  old  building.  They 
belonged  to  the  theatre,  not  to  Potter, 
and,  besides,  they  had  a  union.  But 


24      HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

the  actors  were  dependent  upon  Potter 
for  the  coming  winter's  work  and  wages; 
they  were  his  employees. 

At  last  he  spoke:  "We  will  go  on  with 
the  rehearsal,"  he  said  quietly. 

"  Ah ! "  murmured  old  Tinker.  "  He'll 
take  it  out  on  somebody  else."  And 
with  every  precaution  not  to  jar  down  a 
seat  in  passing,  he  edged  his  way  to  the 
aisle  and  went  softly  thereby  to  the  ex 
treme  rear  of  the  house.  He  was  an  em 
ployee,  too. 


Ill 

IT  WAS  a  luckless  lady  who  helped 
to  fulfil  the  prediction.  Technically 
she  was  the  "ingenue";  publicly  she 
was  "Miss  Carol  Lyston";  legally  she 
was  a  Mrs.  Surbilt,  being  wife  to  the  es 
tablished  leading  man  of  that  ilk,  Vorly 
Surbilt.  Miss  Lyston  had  come  to  the 
rehearsal  in  a  condition  of  exhausted 
nerves,  owing  to  her  husband's  having 
just  accepted,  over  her  protest,  a  "road" 
engagement  with  a  lady-star  of  such 
susceptible  gallantry  she  had  never  yet 

25 


26  HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 
been  known  to  resist  falling  in  love  with 
her  leading-man  before  she  quarrelled 
with  him.  Miss  Lyston's  protest  having 
lasted  the  whole  of  the  preceding  night, 
and  not  at  all  concluding  with  Mr.  Sur- 
bilt's  departure,  about  breakfast-time, 
avowedly  to  seek  total  anaesthesia  by 
means  of  a  long  list  of  liquors,  which  he 
named,  she  had  spent  the  hours  before 
rehearsal  interviewing  female  acquaint 
ances  who  had  been  members  of  the  sus 
ceptible  lady's  company — a  proceeding 
which  indicates  that  she  deliberately 
courted  hysteria. 

Shortly  after  the  outraged  rehearsal 
had  been  resumed,  she  unfortunately  ut 
tered  a  loud,  dry  sob,  startlingly  irrelevant 
to  the  matter  in  hand.  It  came  during 
the  revelation  of  "Roderick  Hanscom's" 
secret,  and  Potter  stopped  instantly. 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE      27 

" Who  did  that?" 

"Miss  Lyston,  sir,"  Packer  responded 
loyally,  such  matters  being  part  of  his 
duty. 

The  star  turned  to  face  the  agitated 
criminal.  "Miss  Lyston,"  he  said,  de 
laying  each  syllable  to  pack  it  more 
solidly  with  ice,  "will  you  be  good  enough 
to  inform  this  company  if  there  is  any 
thing  in  your  lines  to  warrant  your  break 
ing  into  a  speech  of  mine  with  a  horribk 
noise  like  that?" 

"Nothing." 

"Then  perhaps  you  will  inform  us  why 
you  do  break  into  a  speech  of  mine  with  a 
horrible  noise  like  that  ?" 

"I  only  coughed,  Mr.  Potter,"  said  Miss 
Lyston,  shaking. 

"Coughed!"  he  repeated  slowly,  and 
then  with  a  sudden  tragic  fury  shouted  at 


28      HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

the  top  of  his  splendid  voice,  "COUGHED!  " 
He  swung  away  from  her,  and  strode  up 
and  down  the  stage,  struggling  with 
emotion,  while  the  stricken  company 
fastened  their  eyes  to  their  strips  of  manu 
script,  as  if  in  study,  and  looked  neither 
at  him  nor  Miss  Lyston. 

"You  only  coughed!"  He  paused  be 
fore  her  in  his  stride.  "Is  it  your  pur 
pose  to  cough  during  my  speeches  when 
this  play  is  produced  before  an  audience?  " 
He  waited  for  no  reply,  but  taking  his 
head  wofully  in  his  hands,  began  to  pace 
up  and  down  again,  turning  at  last  toward 
the  dark  auditorium  to  address  his  in 
visible  manager: 

"Really,  really,  Mr.  Tinker,"  he  cried, 
despairingly,  "we  shall  have  to  change 
some  of  these  people.  I  can't  act  with 
- —  Mr.  Tinker !  Where's  Mr.  Tinker? 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE      29 

Mr.  Tinker!  My  soul!  He's  gone!  He 
always  is  gone  when  I  want  him !  I  won 
der  how  many  men  would  bear  what 

I But  here  he  interrupted  himself 

unexpectedly.  "Go  on  with  the  rehear 
sal!  Packer,  where  were  we?" 

"Here,  sir,  right  here,"  brightly  re 
sponded  Packer,  ready  finger  upon  the 
proper  spot  in  the  manuscript.  "You 
had  just  begun,  'Nothing  in  this  world 
but  that  one  thing  can  defeat  my  certain 
election  and  nothing  but  that  one  thing 
shall  de '" 

"That  will  do,"  thundered  his  master. 
"Are  you  going  to  play  the  part?  Get 
out  of  the  way  and  let's  get  on  with  the 
act,  in  heaven's  name!  Down  stage  a 
step,  Miss  Ellsling.  No;  I  said  down. 
A  step,  not  a  mile !  There !  Now,  if  you 
consent  to  be  ready,  ladies  and  gentle- 


30      HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

men.  Very  well.  '  Nothing  in  this  world 
but  that  one  thing  can  defeat  my  certain 
election  and  noth ":  Again  he  in 
terrupted  himself  unexpectedly.  In  the 
middle  of  the  word  there  came  a  catch 
in  his  voice;  he  broke  off,  and  whirling 
once  more  upon  the  miserable  Miss  Lys- 
ton,  he  transfixed  her  with  a  forefinger 
and  a  yell. 

"It  wasn't  a  cough!  What  was  that 
horrible  noise  you  made?" 

Miss  Lyston,  being  unable  to  reply  in 
words,  gave  him  for  answer  an  object- 
lesson  which  demonstrated  plainly  the 
nature  of  the  horrible  noise.  She  broke 
into  loud,  consecutive  sobs,  while  Potter, 
very  little  the  real  cause  of  them,  altered 
in  expression  from  indignation  to  the 
neighbourhood  of  lunacy. 

"She's    doing    this    on    purpose!"    he 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE      31 

cried.  "What's  the  matter  with  her?  She's 
sick!  Miss  Lyston,  you're  sick!  Packer, 
get  her  away — take  her  away.  She's  sick ! 
Send  her  home — send  her  home  in  a  cab! 
Packer!" 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Potter,  I'll  arrange  it.  Don't 
be  disturbed." 

The  stage-manager  was  already  at  the 
sobbing  lady's  side,  and  she  leaned  upon 
him  gratefully,  continuing  to  produce  the 
symptoms  of  her  illness. 

"Put  her  in  a  cab  at  once,"  said  the 
star,  somewhat  recovered  from  his  con 
sternation.  'You  can  pay  the  cabman," 
he  added.  "Make  her  as  comfortable 
as  you  can;  she's  really  ill.  Anybody  can 
see  she's  ill.  Miss  Lyston,  you  shouldn't 
have  tried  to  rehearse  when  you're  so  ill. 
Do  everything  possible  for  Miss  Lyston's 
comfort,  Packer." 


32      HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

He  followed  the  pair  as  they  entered  the 
passageway  to  the  stage  door;  then,  Miss 
Lyston's  demonstrations  becoming  less 
audible,  he  halted  abruptly,  and  his  brow 
grew  dark  with  suspicion.  When  Packer 
returned,  he  beckoned  him  aside.  "  Didn't 
she  seem  all  right  as  soon  as  she  got  out 
of  my  sight?" 

"No,  sir;  she  seemed  pretty  badly  up 
set." 

"What  about?" 

"Oh,  something  entirely  outside  of  re 
hearsal,  sir,"  Packer  answered  in  haste. 
"Entirely  outside.  She  wanted  to  know 
if  I'd  heard  any  gossip  about  her  husband 
lately.  That's  it,  Mr.  Potter." 

"You  don't  think  she  was  shamming 
just  to  get  off?" 

"Oh,  not  at  all.     I " 

"  Ha !  She  may  have  fooled  you,  Packer, 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE  33 
or  perhaps— perhaps"  —he  paused,  frown 
ing—"  perhaps  you  were  trying  to  fool  me, 
too.  I  don't  know  your  private  life:  you 
may  have  reasons  to  help  her  de— 

"Mr.  Potter!"  cried  the  distressed 
man.  "What  could  be  my  object?  I 
don't  know  Miss  Lyston  off.  I  was  only 
telling  you  the  simple  truth." 

"How  do  7  know?"  Potter  gave  him  a 
piercing  look.  "People  are  always  trying 
to  take  advantage  of  me." 

"But  Mr.  Potter,  I- 

"  Don't  get  it  into  your  head  that  I  am 
too  easy,  Packer!  You  think  you've  got 
a  luxurious  thing  of  it  here,  with  me, 
but—  -"  He  concluded  with  an  omi 
nous  shake  of  the  head  in  lieu  of  words, 
then  returned  to  the  centre  of  the  stage. 
"Are  we  to  be  all  day  getting  on  with  this 
rehearsal?" 


34      HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

Packer  flew  to  the  table  and  seized  the 
manuscript  he  had  left  there.  "  All  ready, 
sir!  'Nothing  in  this  world  but  one  thing 
can  defeat' — and  so  on,  so  on.  All  ready, 
sir!" 

The  star  made  no  reply  but  to  gaze 
upon  him  stonily,  a  stare  which  produced 
another  dreadful  silence.  Packer  tried  to 
smile,  a  lamentable  sight. 

"Something  wrong,  Mr.  Potter?"  he 
finally  ventured,  desperately. 

The  answer  came  in  a  voice  cracking 
with  emotional  strain:  "I  wonder  how 
many  men  bear  what  I  bear?  I  wonder 
how  many  men  would  pay  a  stage-manager 
the  salary  I  pay,  and  then  do  all  his  work 
for  him!" 

"Mr.  Potter,  if  you'll  tell  me  what's 
the  matter,"  Packer  quavered;  "if  you'll 
only  tell  me " 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE      35 

"The  understudy,  idiot!  Where  is  the 
understudy  to  read  Miss  Lyston's  part? 
You  haven't  got  one!  I  knew  it!  I  told 
you  last  week  to  engage  an  understudy 
for  the  women's  parts,  and  you  haven't 
done  it.  I  knew  it,  I  knew  it!  God  help 
me,  I  knew  it!" 

"But  I  did,  sir.  I've  got  her  here." 
Packer  ran  to  the  back  of  the  stage, 
shouting  loudly:  "Miss — oh,  Miss— I  for- 
get-your-name !  Understudy !  Miss— 

"I'm  here!" 

It  was  an  odd,  slender  voice  that  spoke, 
just  behind  Talbot  Potter,  and  he  turned 
to  stare  at  a  little  figure  in  black — she 
had  come  so  quietly  out  of  the  shadows  of 
the  scenery  into  Miss  Lyston's  place  that 
no  one  had  noticed.  She  was  indefinite 
of  outline  still,  in  the  sparse  light  of  that 
cavernous  place;  and,  with  a  veil  lifted 


36      HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

just  to  the  level  of  her  brows,  under  a 
shadowing  black  hat,  not  much  was  to  be 
clearly  discerned  of  her  except  that  she 
was  small  and  pale  and  had  bright  eyes. 
But  even  the  two  words  she  spoke  proved 
the  peculiar  quality  of  her  voice:  it  was 
like  the  tremolo  of  a  zither  string;  and  at 
the  sound  of  it  the  actors  on  each  side  of 
her  instinctively  moved  a  step  back  for  a 
better  view  of  her,  while  in  his  lurking 
place  old  Tinker  let  his  dry  lips  open  a 
little,  which  was  as  near  as  he  ever  came, 
nowadays,  to  a  look  of  interest.  He  had 
noted  that  this  voice,  sweet  as  rain,  and 
vibrant,  but  not  loud,  was  the  ordinary 
speaking  voice  of  the  understudy,  and 
that  her  "I'm  here,"  had  sounded,  soft 
and  clear,  across  the  deep  orchestra  to  the 
last  row  in  the  house. 

"Of  course!"    Packer   cried.      "There 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE      37 

she    is,    Mr.    Potter!      There's    Miss- 
Miss " 

"Is  her  name  'Missmiss'?"  the  star 
demanded  bitterly. 

"No,  sir.  I've  forgotten  it,  just  this 
moment,  Mr.  Potter,  but  I've  got  it.  I've 
got  it  right  here."  He  began  frantically 
to  turn  out  the  contents  of  his  pockets. 
"It's  in  my  memorandum  book,  if  I 
could  only  find— 

"The  devil,  the  devil!"  shouted  Potter. 
"A  fine  understudy  you've  got  for  us! 
She  sees  me  standing  here  like — like  a 
statue — delaying  the  whole  rehearsal, 
while  we  wait  for  you  to  find  her  name, 
and  she  won't  open  her  lips!"  He  swept 
the  air  with  a  furious  gesture,  and  a  subtle 
faint  relief  became  manifest  throughout 
the  company  at  this  token  that  the  new 
comer  was  indeed  to  fill  Miss  Lyston's 


38      HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 
place  for  one  rehearsal  at  least.     "Why 
don't  you  tell  us  your  name?"  he  roared. 

"I  understood,"  said  the  zither-sweet 
voice,  "that  I  was  never  to  speak  to  you 
unless  you  directly  asked  me  a  question. 
My " 

"My  soul!  Have  you  got  a  name?'9 

"Wanda  Malone." 

Potter  had  never  heard  it  until  that 
moment,  but  his  expression  showed  that 
he  considered  it  another  outrage. 


IV 

THE  rehearsal  proceeded,  and  un 
der  that  cover  old  Tinker  came 
noiselessly  down  the  aisle  and  re 
sumed  his  seat  beside  Canby,  who  was  ut 
tering  short,  broken  sighs,  and  appeared  to 
have  been  trying  with  fair  success  to  give 
himself  a  shampoo. 

"It's  ruined,  Mr.  Tinker !"  he  moaned, 
and  his  accompanying  gesture  was  mis 
leading,  seeming  to  indicate  that  he  al 
luded  to  his  hair.  "It's  all  ruined  if  he 
sticks  to  these  horrible  lines  he's  put  in — • 

39 


40  HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 
people  told  me  I  ought  to  have  it  in  my 
contract  that  nothing  could  be  changed. 
I  was  trying  to  make  the  audience  see  the 
tragedy  of  egoism  in  my  play — and  how 
people  get  to  hating  an  egoist.  I  made 
'Roderick  Hanscom'  a  disagreeable  char 
acter  on  purpose,  and — oh,  listen  to  that!" 

Miss  Ellsling  and  Talbot  Potter  stood 
alone,  near  the  front  of  the  stage.  "Why 
do  you  waste  such  goodness  on  me,  Rod 
erick?  "  Miss  Ellsling  was  inquiring.  "  It 
is  noble  and  I  feel  that  I  am  unworthy 
of  you." 

"No,  Mildred,  believe  me,"  Potter 
read  from  his  manuscript,  "I  would  rather 
decline  the  nomination  and  abandon  my 
career,  and  go  to  live  in  some  quiet  spot 
far  from  all  this,  than  that  you  should 
know  one  single  moment's  unhappiness, 
for  you  mean  far  more  to  me  than  worldly 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE       41 

success."  He  kissed  her  hand  with  rever 
ence,  and  lifted  his  head  slowly,  facing  the 
audience  with  a  rapt  gaze;  his  wonderful 
smile — that  ineffable  smile  of  abnegation 
and  benignity — just  beginning  to  dawn. 

Coming  from  behind  him,  and  there 
fore  unable  to  see  his  face,  Miss  Wanda 
Malone  advanced  in  her  character  of 
ingenue,  speaking  with  an  effect  of  gay- 
ety:  "Now  what  are  you  two  good 
people  conspiring  about?" 

Potter  stamped  the  floor;  there  was 
wrenched  from  him  an  incoherent  shriek 
containing  fragments  of  profane  words 
and  ending  distinguishably  with:  "It's 
that  Missmiss  again!" 

Packer  impelled  himself  upon  Miss 
Malone,  pushing  her  back.  "No,  no, 
no!"  he  cried.  "Count  ten!  Count  ten 
before  you  come  down  with  that  speech. 


42      HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

You  mustn't  interrupt  Mr.  Potter,  Miss— 
Miss- " 

"It  was  my  cue,"  she  said  composedly, 
showing  her  little  pamphlet  of  type 
written  manuscript.  "Wasn't  I  meant 
to  speak  on  the  cue?" 

Talbot  Potter  recovered  himself  suf 
ficiently  to  utter  a  cry  of  despair:  "And 
these  are  the  kind  of  people  an  artist 
must  work  with!"  He  lifted  his  arms 
to  heaven,  calling  upon  the  high  gods 
for  pity;  then,  with  a  sudden  turn  of 
fury,  ran  to  the  back  of  the  stage  and 
came  mincing  forward  evidently  intending 
saturnine  mimicry,  repeating  the  ingenue's 
speech  in  a  mocking  falsetto:  "Now  what 
are  you  two  good  people  conspiring  about?  " 
After  that  he  whirled  upon  her,  demand 
ing  with  ferocity:  "You've  got  something 
you  can  think  with  in  your  head,  haven't 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE      43 

you,  Missmiss?  Then  what  do  you  think 
olthat?" 

Miss  Malone  smiled,  and  it  was  a  smile 
that  would  have  gone  a  long  way  at  a 
college  dance.  Here,  it  made  the  pitying 
company  shudder  for  her.  "I  think  it's 
a  silly,  makeshift  sort  of  a  speech,"  she 
said  cheerfully,  in  which  opinion  the  un 
happy  playwright  out  in  the  audience 
hotly  agreed.  "It's  a  bit  of  threadbare 
archness,  and  if  I  were  to  play  Miss 
Lyston's  part,  I'd  be  glad  to  have  it 
changed!" 

Potter  looked  dazed.  "Is  it  your  idea," 
he  said  in  a  ghostly  voice,  "that  I  was 
asking  for  your  impression  of  the  dramatic 
and  literary  value  of  that  line?" 

She  seemed  surprised.    "  Weren't  you?  " 

It  was  too  much  for  Potter.  He  had 
brilliant  and  unusual  powers  of  expres- 


44      HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

sion,  but  this  was  beyond  them.  He  went 
to  the  chair  beside  the  little  table,  flung 
himself  upon  it,  his  legs  outstretched,  his 
arms  dangling  inert,  and  stared  haggardly 
upward  at  nothing. 

Packer  staggered  into  the  breach.  "You 
interrupted  the  smile,  Miss — Mi " 

"Miss  Malone,"  she  prompted. 

"You  interrupted  the  smile,  Miss  Ma- 
lone.  Mr.  Potter  gives  them  the  smile 
there.  You  must  count  ten  for  it,  after 
your  cue.  Ten — slow.  Count  slow. 
Mark  it  on  your  sides,  Miss — ah — Miss. 
'Count  ten  for  smile.'  Write  it  down 
please,  Miss — Miss " 

Potter  spoke  wearily.  "  Be  kind  enough 
to  let  me  know,  Packer,  when  you  and 
Missmiss  can  bring  yourselves  to  permit 
this  rehearsal  to  continue." 

"All  ready,  sir,"  said  Packer  briskly. 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE      45 

"All  ready  now,  Mr.  Potter."  And  upon 
the  star's  limply  rising,  Miss  Ellsling, 
most  tactful  of  leading  women,  went  back 
to  his  cue  with  a  change  of  emphasis  in 
her  reading  that  helped  to  restore  him 
somewhat  to  his  poise.  "It  is  noble," 
she  repeated,  "and  I  feel  that  I  am  un 
worthy  of  you!" 

Counting  ten  slowly  proved  to  be  the 
proper  deference  to  the  smile,  and  Miss 
Malone  was  allowed  to  come  down  the 
stage  and  complete,  undisturbed,  her 
ingenue  request  to  know  what  the  two 
good  people  were  conspiring  about.  There 
after  the  rehearsal  went  on  in  a  strange, 
unreal  peace  like  that  of  a  prairie  noon 
in  the  cyclone  season. 

"Notice  that  girl?"  old  Tinker  mut 
tered,  as  Wanda  Malone  finished  another 
ingenue  question  with  a  light  laugh,  as 


46      HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

commanded  by  her  manuscript.  "She's 
frightened  but  she's  steady." 

"  What  girl?  "  Canby  was  shampooing 
himself  feverishly  and  had  little  interest 
in  girls.  "I  made  it  a  disagreeable  char 
acter  because " 

"I  mean  the  one  he's  letting  out  on — 
Malone,"  said  Tinker.  "Didn't  you 
notice  her  voice?  Her  laugh  reminds  me  of 
Fanny  Caton's — and  Dora  Preston's " 

"Who?"  Canby  asked  vaguely. 

"Oh,  nobody  you'd  remember:  some 
old-time  actresses  that  had  their  day — 
and  died — long  ago.  This  girl's  voice 
made  me  think  of  them." 

"She  may,  she  may,"  said  Canby  hur 
riedly.  "Mr.  Tinker,  the  play  is  ruined. 
He's  tangled  the  whole  act  up  so  that  I 
can't  tell  what  it's  about  myself.  Instead 
of  Roderick  Hanscom's  being  a  man  that 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE      47 

people  dislike  for  his  conceit  and  selfish 
ness  he's  got  him  absolutely  turned 
round.  I  oughtn't  to  allow  it — but  every 
thing's  so  different  from  what  I  thought 
it  would  be !  He  doesn't  seem  to  know  I'm 
here.  I  came  prepared  to  read  the  play  to 
the  company;  I  thought  he'd  want  me  to." 

44 Oh,  no,"  said  Tinker.  "He  never 
does  that." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Wastes  time  for  one  thing.  The  actors 
don't  listen  except  when  their  own  parts 
are  being  read." 

"Good  gracious!" 

"Their  own  parts  are  all  they  have  to 
look  out  for,"  the  old  man  informed  him 
dryly.  "I've  known  actors  to  play  a 
long  time  in  parts  that  didn't  appear 
in  the  last  act,  and  they  never  know  how 
the  play  ended." 


48      HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

"Good  gracious!" 

"Never  cared,  either,"  Tinker  added. 

"Good  gr " 

"Sh!     He's  breaking  out  again!" 

A  shriek  of  agony  came  from  the  stage. 
"Pack-e-r-r-/  Where  did  you  find  this 
Missmiss  understudy?  Can't  you  get  me 
people  of  experience?  I  really  cannot 
bear  this  kind  of  thing — I  can  not!'9 
And  Potter  flung  himself  upon  the  chair, 
leaving  the  slight  figure  in  black  standing 
alone  in  the  centre  of  the  stage.  He 
sprang  up  again,  however,  surprisingly, 
upon  the  very  instant  of  despairing  col 
lapse.  "What  do  you  mean  by  this  per 
petual  torture  of  me?"  he  wailed  at  her. 
"Don't  you  know  what  you  did?" 

"No,  Mr.  Potter."  She  looked  at  him 
bravely,  but  she  began  to  grow  red. 

"You  don't?"  he  cried  incredulously. 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE      49 

"You  don't  know  what  you  did?  You 
moved!  How  are  they  going  to  get  my 
face  if  you  move ?  Don't  you  know  enough 
to  hold  a  picture  and  not  ruin  it  by 
moving?" 

"There  was  a  movement  written  for 
that  cue,"  she  said,  a  little  tremulously. 
"The  business  in  the  script  is,  *  Showing 
that  she  is  touched  by  Roderick's  noble 
ness,  lifts  handkerchief  impulsive  gesture 
to  eyes.' ' 

"Not,"  he  shouted,  "not  during  the 
SMILE!" 

"Oh!"  she  cried  remorsefully.  "Have 
I  done  that  again?" 

"'Again!'  I  don't  know  how  many 
times  you'  ve  done  it ! "  He  flung  his  arms 
wide,  with  hands  outspread  and  fingers 
vibrating.  "You  do  it  every  time  you  get 
the  chance !  You  do  it  perpetually !  You 


50      HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

don't  do  anything  else!     It's  all  you  live 
for!" 

He  hurled  his  manuscript  violently  at 
the  table,  Packer  making  a  wonderful 
pick-up  catch  of  it  just  as  it  touched  the 
floor. 

'' That's  all ! "  And  the  unhappy  artist 
sank  into  the  chair  in  a  crumpled  stupor. 

'Ten  o'clock  to-morrow  morning,  ladies 
and  gentlemen!"  Packer  called  imme 
diately,  with  brisk  cheerfulness.  "Please 
notice:  to-morrow's  rehearsal  is  in  the 
morning.  Ten  o'clock  to-morrow  morn 
ing!" 

"Tell  the  understudy  to  wait,  Packer," 
said  the  star  abysmally,  and  Packer  ad 
dressed  himself  to  the  departing  backs 
of  the  company: 

"Mr.  Potter  wants  to  speak  to  Miss — 
Mis; 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE      51 

"Malone,"  prompted  the  owner  of  the 
name,  without  resentment. 

"Wait  a  moment,  Miss  Malone,"  said 
Potter,  looking  up  wearily.  "Is  Mr. 
Tinker  anywhere  about?" 

"I'm  here,  Mr.  Potter."  Tinker  came 
forward  to  the  orchestra  railing. 

"I've  been  thinking  about  this  play, 
Mr.  Tinker,"  Potter  said,  shaking  his 
head  despondently.  "I  don't  know  about 
it.  I'm  very,  very  doubtful  about  it." 
He  peered  over  Tinker's  head,  squinting 
his  eyes,  and  seemed  for  the  first  time 
to  be  aware  of  the  playwright's  presence. 
"Oh,  are  you  there,  Mr.  Canby?  When 
did  you  come  in?" 

"I've  been  here  all  the  time,"  said  the 
dishevelled  Canby,  coming  forward.  "I 
supposed  it  was  my  business  to  be  here, 
but " 


52      HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

"Very  glad  to  have  you  if  you  wish," 
Potter  interrupted  gloomily.  "Any  time. 
Any  time  you  like.  I  was  just  telling 
Mr.  Tinker  that  I  don't  know  about  your 
play.  I  don't  know  if  it'll  do  at  all." 

"If  you'd  play  it,"  Canby  began,  "the 
way  I  wrote  it — — " 

"In  the  first  place,"  Potter  said  with 
sudden  vehemence,  "it  lacks  Punch! 
Where's  your  Punch  in  this  play,  Mr. 
Canby?  Where  is  there  any  Punch  what 
ever  in  the  whole  four  acts?  Surely, 
after  this  rehearsal,  you  don't  mean  to 
claim  that  the  first  act  has  one  single 
ounce  of  Punch  in  it!" 

"But  you've  twisted  this  act  all  round," 
the  unhappy  young  man  protested.  "The 
way  you  have  it  I  can't  tell  what  it's  got 
to  it.  I  meant  Roderick  Hanscom  to 
be  a  disj 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE      53 

"Mr.  Canby,"  said  the  star,  rising  im 
pressively,  "if  we  played  that  act  the 
way  you  wrote  it,  we'd  last  just  about 
four  minutes  of  the  opening  night.  You 
gave  me  absolutely  nothing  to  do  !  Other 
people  talked  at  me  and  I  had  to  stand 
there  and  be  talked  at  for  twenty  minutes 
straight,  like  a  blithering  ninny!" 

"Well,  as  you  have  it,  the  other  actors 
have  to  stand  there  like  ninnies,"  poor 
Canby  retorted  miserably,  "  while  you  talk 
at  them  almost  the  whole  time." 

"My  soul!"  Potter  struck  the  table 
with  the  palm  of  his  hand.  "Do  you 
think  anybody's  going  to  pay  two  dollars 
to  watch  me  listen  to  my  company  for 
three  hours?  No,  my  dear  man,  your 
play's  got  to  give  me  something  to  do! 
You'll  have  to  rewrite  the  second  and 
third  acts.  I've  done  what  I  could  for 


54      HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

the  first,  but,  good  God!  Mr.  Canby,  I 
can't  write  your  whole  play  for  you! 
You'll  have  to  get  some  Punch  into  it  or 
we'll  never  be  able  to  go  on  with  it." 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  said 
the  playwright  helplessly.  "I  never  did 
know  what  people  mean  by  Punch." 

"Punch?  It's  what  grips  'em,"  Potter 
returned  with  vehemence.  "Punch  is 
what  keeps  'em  sitting  on  the  edge  of 
their  seats.  Big  love  scenes!  They've 
got  Punch.  Or  a  big  scene  with  a  man. 
Give  me  a  big  scene  with  a  man."  He 
illustrated  his  meaning  with  startling  in 
tensity,  crouching  and  seizing  an  imagi 
nary  antagonist  by  the  throat,  shaking 
him  and  snarling  between  his  clenched 
teeth,  while  his  own  throat  swelled  and 
reddened:  " Now,  damn  you!  You  dog!  So 
on,  so  on,  so  on!  Zowie!"  Suddenly 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE      55 

his  figure  straightened.  "Then  change. 
See?"  He  became  serene,  almost  august. 
"'No!  I  will  not  soil  these  hands  with 
you.  So  on,  so  on,  so  on.  I  give  you 
your  worthless  life.  Go!"  He  com 
pleted  his  generosity  by  giving  Canby  and 
Tinker  the  smile,  after  which  he  con 
cluded  much  more  cheerfully:  "Some 
thing  like  that,  Mr.  Canby,  and  we'll 
have  some  real  Punch  in  your  play." 

"But  there  isn't  any  chance  for  that 
kind  of  a  scene  in  it,"  the  playwright  ob 
jected.  "  It's  the  study  of  an  egoist,  a  dis- 
agree-  -" 

"There!"  exclaimed  Potter.  "That's 
it!  Do  you  think  people  are  going  to 
pay  two  dollars  to  see  Talbot  Potter  be 
have  like  a  cad?  They  won't  do  it;  they 
pay  two  dollars  to  see  me  as  I  am — not 
pretending  to  be  the  kind  of  man  your 


56      HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

'Roderick  Hanscom'  was.  No,  Mr. 
Canby,  I  accepted  your  play  because  it 
has  got  quite  a  fair  situation  in  the  third 
act,  and  because  I  thought  I  saw  a  chance 
in  it  to  keep  some  of  the  strength  of 
'Roderick  Hanscom'  and  yet  make  him 
lovable." 

"But,  great  heavens!  if  you  make  him 
lovable  the  character's  ruined.  Besides, 
the  audience  won't  want  to  see  him  lose 
the  girl  at  the  end  and  'Donald  Grey'  get 
her!" 

"No,  they  won't;  that's  it  exactly,"  said 
Potter  thoughtfully.  "You'll  have  to  fix 
that,  Mr.  Canby.  '  Roderick  Hanscom'  will 
have  to  win  her  by  a  great  sacrifice  in  the 
last  act.  A  great,  strong,  lovable  man, 
Mr.  Canby;  that's  the  kind  of  character  I 
want  to  play :  a  big,  sweet,  lovable  fellow, 
with  the  heart  of  a  child,  that  makes  a  great 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE      57 

sacrifice  for  a  woman.  I  don't  want  to  play 
'egoists';  I  don't  want  to  play  character 
parts.  No."  He  shook  his  head  mus 
ingly,  and  concluded,  the  while  a  light 
of  ineffable  sweetness  shone  from  his  re 
markable  eyes:  "Mr.  Canby,  no!  My 
audience  comes  to  see  Talbot  Potter. 
You  go  over  these  other  acts  and  write 
the  part  so  that  I  can  play  myself." 

The  playwright  gazed  upon  him,  in 
articulate,  and  Potter,  shaking  himself 
slightly,  like  one  aroused  from  a  pleasant 
little  reverie,  turned  to  the  waiting  figure 
of  the  girl. 

"What  is  it,  Miss  Malone?"  he  asked 
mildly.  "Did  you  want  to  speak  to 
me?" 

"You  told  Mr.  Packer  to  ask  me  to 
wait,"  she  said. 

"Did  I?     Oh,  yes,  so  I  did,     If  you 


58      HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

please,  take  off  your  hat  and  veil,  Miss 
Malone?" 

She  gave  him  a  startled  look;  then, 
without  a  word,  slowly  obeyed. 

"Ah,  yes,"  he  said  a  moment  later. 
v  We'll  find  something  else  for  Miss 
Lyston  when  she  recovers.  You  will 
keep  the  part." 


WHEN     Canby    (with    his    hair 
smoothed)  descended  to  the  base 
ment  dining-room  of  his  Madi 
son  Avenue  boarding-house  that  evening, 
his  table  comrades  gave  him  an  effective 
entrance:  they  rose,  waving  napkins  and 
cheering,  and  there  were  cries  of  "Author! 
Author!"  "Speech! "and  " Cher maltre ! " 
The  recipient  of  these  honours  bore  them 
with  an  uneasiness  attributed  to  modesty, 
and  making  inadequate  response,  sat  down 
to  his  soup  with  no  importunate  appetite. 

59 


60      HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

"Seriously,  though,"  said  a  bearded 
man  opposite,  who  always  broke  into 
everything  with  "seriously  though,"  or 
else,  "all  joking  aside,"  and  had  thereby 
gained  a  reputation  for  conservatism  and 
soundness — "seriously,  though,  it  must 
have  been  a  great  experience  to  take  charge 
of  the  rehearsal  of  such  a  company  as  Tal- 
bot  Potter's." 

"Tell  us  how  it  felt,  Canby,  old  boy," 
said  another.  "How  does  it  feel  to  sit 
up  there  like  a  king  makin'  everybody 
step  around  to  suit  you?" 

Other  neighbours  took  it  up. 

"Any  pretty  girls  in  the  company, 
Can?" 

"How  does  it  feel  to  be  a  great  dram 
atist,  old  man?" 

"When  you  goin'  to  hire  a  valet- 
chauffeur?" 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE      61 

"Better  ask  him  when  he's  goin'  to  take 
us  to  rehearsal,  to  see  him  in  his  glory." 

"  Gentlemen,  gentlemen,"  said  the  host 
ess  deprecatingly,  "Miss  Cornish  is  try 
ing  to  speak  to  Mr.  Canby." 

Miss  Cornish,  a  middle-aged  lady  in 
black  lace,  sat  at  her  right,  at  the  head  of 
the  largest  table,  being  the  most  paying 
of  these  paying  guests,  by  which  virtue 
she  held  also  the  ingleside  premiership 
of  the  parlour  overhead.  She  was  re 
puted  to  walk  much  among  gentles,  and 
to  have  a  high  taste  in  letters  and  the 
drama;  for  she  was  chief  of  an  essay  club, 
had  a  hushing  manner,  and  often  quoted 
with  precision  from  reviews,  or  from  such 
publishers'  advertisements  as  contained 
no  slang;  and  she  was  a  member  of  one  of 
the  leagues  for  patronizing  the  theatre  in 
moderation. 


62      HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

"Mr.  Canby,"  said  the  hostess  pleas 
antly,  "Miss  Cornish  wishes  to " 

This  obtained  the  attention  of  the  as 
sembly,  while  Canby,  at  the  other  end 
of  the  room,  sat  back  in  his  chair  with 
the  unenthusiastic  air  of  a  man  being 
served  with  papers. 

"Yes,  Miss  Cornish." 

Miss  Cornish  cleared  her  throat,  not 
practically,  but  with  culture,  as  prelimi 
nary  to  an  address.  "I  was  saying,  Mr. 
Canby,"  she  began,  "that  I  had  a  sug 
gestion  to  make  which  may  not  only  in 
terest  you,  but  certain  others  of  us  who 
do  not  enjoy  equal  opportunities  in  some 
matters — as — as  others  of  us  who  do. 
Indeed,  I  believe  it  will  interest  all  of  us 
without  regard  to — to — to  this.  What  I 
was  about  to  suggest  was  that  since  to 
day  you  have  had  a  very  interesting  ex- 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE      63 

pcrience,  not  only  interesting  because  you 
have  entered  into  a  professional  as  well 
as  personal  friendship  with  one  of  our 
foremost  artists — an  artist  whose  work  is 
cultivated  always — but  also  interesting 
because  there  are  some  of  us  here  whose 
more  practical  occupations  and  walk  in 
life  must  necessarily  withhold  them  from 
—from  this.  What  I  meant  to  suggest 
was  that,  as  this  prevents  them  from— 
from  this — would  it  not  be  a  favourable 
opportunity  for  them  to — to  glean  some 
commentary  upon  the  actual  methods  of  a 
field  of  art?  Personally,  it  happens  that 
whenever  opportunities  and  invitations 
have  been — have  been  urged,  other  duties 
intervened,  but  though,  on  that  account 
never  having  been  actually  present,  I  am 
familiar,  of  course,  through  conversation 
with  great  artists  and  memoirs  and — and 


64      HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

other  sources  of  literature — with  the  pro 
cedure  and  etiquette  of  rehearsal.  But 
others  among  us,  no  doubt  through  lack 
of  leisure,  are  perhaps  less  so  than — than 
this.  What  I  wished  to  suggest  was  that, 
not  now,  but  after  dinner,  we  all  assemble 
quietly,  in  the  large  parlour  upstairs,  of 
which  Mrs.  Reibold  has  kindly  consented 
to  allow  us  the  use  for  the  evening,  for  this 
purpose,  and  that  you,  Mr.  Canby,  would 

then  give  us  an  informal  talk "  (She 

was  momentarily  interrupted  by  a  defer 
ential  murmur  of  "Hear!  Hear!"  from 
everybody.)  "What  I  meant  to  sug 
gest,"  she  resumed,  smiling  graciously 
as  from  a  platform,  "was  a  sort  of  descrip 
tive  lecture,  of  course  wholly  informal — 
not  so  much  upon  your  little  play  itself, 
Mr.  Canby,  for  I  believe  we  are  all  fa 
miliar  with  its  subject-matter,  but  what 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE      65 

would  perhaps  be  more  improving  in 
artistic  ways  would  be  that  you  give  us 
your  impressions  of  this  little  experience 
of  yours  to-day  while  it  is  fresh  in  your 
mind.  I  would  suggest  that  you  tell  us, 
simply,  and  in  your  own  way,  exactly 
what  was  the  form  of  procedure  at  re 
hearsal,  so  that  those  of  us  not  so  fortu 
nate  as  to  be  already  en  rapport  with  such 
matters  may  form  a  helpful  and  artistic 
idea  of — of  this.  I  would  suggest  that 
you  go  into  some  details  of  this,  perhaps 
adding  whatever  anecdotes  or  incidents 
of — of — of  the  day — you  think  would 
give  additional  value  to  this.  I  would 
suggest  that  you  tell  us,  for  instance,  how 
you  were  received  upon  your  arrival,  who 
took  you  to  the  most  favourable  position 
for  observing  the  performance,  and  what 
was  said.  We  should  be  glad  to  hear  also, 


66      HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

I  am  sure,  any  artistic  thoughts  or — 
or  knowledge — Mr.  Potter  may  have  let 
fall  in  the  green-room;  or  even  a  few 
witticisms  might  not  be  out  of  place,  if 
you  should  recall  these.  We  should  all  like 
to  know,  I  am  sure,  what  Mr.  Potter's 
method  of  conceiving  his  part  was.  Also, 
does  he  leave  entire  freedom  to  his  com 
pany  in  the  creation  of  their  own  roles, 
or  does  he  aid  them?  Many  questions, 
no  doubt,  occur  to  all  of  us.  For  instance : 
Did  Mr.  Potter  offer  you  any  suggestions 
for  changes  and  alterations  that  might  aid 
to  develop  the  literary  and  artistic  value 

of  the  pi " 

The  placid  voice,  flowing  on  in  gentle 
great  content  of  itself  (while  all  the 
boarders  gallantly  refrained  from  eat 
ing),  was  checked  by  an  interruption 
which  united  into  one  shattering  impact 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE      67 

the   effects   of   lese-majeste    and    of   vio 
lence. 

"Couldn't!     No!     No  parlour!      HOT- 

The  words  mingled  in  the  throat  of  the 
playwright,  producing  an  explosion  some 
where  between  choke  and  bellow,  as  he 
got  upon  his  feet,  overturning  his  chair 
and  coincidentally  dislodging  several  ar 
ticles  of  china  and  glassware.  He  stood 
among  the  ruins  for  one  moment,  pub 
licly  wiping  his  brow  with  a  napkin,  then 
plunged,  murmuring,  out  of  the  room  and 
up  the  stairway;  and,  before  any  of  the 
company  had  recovered  speech,  the  front 
door  was  heard  to  slam  tumultuously,  its 
reverberations  being  simultaneous  with 
the  sound  of  footsteps  running  down  the 
stoop. 

Turning    northward    upon    the    pave- 


68      HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

ment,  the  fugitive  hurriedly  passed  the 
two  lighted  windows  of  the  dining-room: 
they  rattled  with  a  concussion — the  out 
burst  of  suddenly  released  voices  begin 
ning  what  was  to  be  a  protracted  wake 
over  the  remains  of  his  reputation  as  a 
gentleman.  He  fled,  flinging  on  his  over 
coat  as  he  went.  In  his  pockets  were 
portions  of  the  manuscript  of  his  play,  al 
ready  distorted  since  rehearsal  to  suit  the 
new  nobleness  of  "Roderick  Hanscom," 
and  among  these  inky  sheets  was  a  note 
from  Talbot  Potter,  received  just  before 
dinner: 

DEAR  MR.  CANBY: 

Come  up  to  my  apartments  at  the  Pantheon 
after  dinner  and  let  me  see  what  changes  you  have 
been  able  to  make  in  the  second  and  third  acts. 
I  should  like  to  look  at  them  before  deciding  to 
put  on  another  play  I  have  been  considering. 
Hastily  y'rs, 

TAL'T  POTTER. 


VI 

CANBY  walked  fast,  the  clamorous 
dining-room  seeming  to  pursue 
him,  and  the  thought  of  what 
figure  he  had  cut  there  filling  him  with 
horror  of  himself,  though  he  found  a  little 
consolation  in  wondering  if  he  hadn't  in 
sulted  Miss  Cornish  because  he  was  a 
genius  and  couldn't  help  doing  queer 
things.  That  solace  was  slight,  indeed: 
Canby  was  only  twenty-seven,  but  he  was 
frightened. 

The  night  before  he  had  been  as  eagerly 

69 


70      HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

happy  as  a  boy  on  Christmas  Eve.  He 
had  finished  his  last  day  at  the  office,  and 
after  initiating  the  youth  who  was  to  take 
his  desk,  had  parted  with  his  employer 
genially,  but  to  the  undeniable  satisfaction 
of  both.  The  new  career,  opening  so  glo 
riously,  a  month  earlier,  with  Talbot  Pot 
ter's  acceptance  of  the  play,  was  thus  defi 
nitely  adopted,  and  no  old  one  left  to  fall 
back  upon.  And  Madison  Avenue,  after 
dark,  shows  little  to  reassure  a  new  play 
wright  who  carries  in  his  pocket  a  note  end 
ing  with  the  words, "  before  deciding  to  put 
on  another  play  I  have  been  considering." 
It  was  Bleak  Street,  that  night,  for  young 
Stewart  Canby,  and  a  bleak,  bleak  walk 
he  took  therein. 

Desperate  alterations  were  already 
scratched  into  the  manuscript:  plans  for 
more  and  more  ran  overlapping  one  an- 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE      71 

other  in  his  mind,  accompanied  by  phrases 
— echoes  and  fragments  of  Talbot  Potter: 
"Punch!  What  this  play  needs  is 
Punch!"  "Big  love  scenes!"  "Big 
scene  with  a  man!"  "Great  sacrifice  for 
a  woman!"  "Big-hearted,  lovable  fel 
low!"  :<You  dog!  So  on,  so  on!" 
"Zowie!"  He  must  get  all  this  into  the 
play  and  yet  preserve  his  "third  act  situa 
tion,"  leniently  admitted  to  be  "quite  a 
fair"  one.  Slacking  his  gait  somewhat, 
the  tormented  young  man  lifted  his  hat 
in  order  to  run  his  hand  viciously  through 
his  hair,  which  he  seemed  to  blame  for 
everything.  Then  he  muttered,  under 
his  breath,  indignantly:  "Darn  you,  let 
me  alone!" 

Curious  bedevilment!  It  was  not  Tal 
bot  Potter  whom  he  thus  adjured:  it  was 
Wanda  Malone.  And  yet,  during  the 


72      HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

rehearsal,  he  had  not  once  consciously 
thought  of  the  understudy;  and  he  had 
come  away  from  the  theatre  occupied — 
exclusively,  he  would  have  sworn — with 
the  predicament  in  which  he  found  him 
self  and  his  play.  Surely  that  was  enough 
to  fill  and  overflow  any  new  playwright's 
mind,  but,  about  half  an  hour  after  he  had 
reached  his  room  and  set  to  work  upon 
the  manuscript  of  the  second  act,  he  dis 
covered  that  he  had  retained,  unawares, 
a  singularly  clear  impression  of  Miss  Ma- 
lone. 

Then,  presently,  he  realized  that  dis 
tinct  pictures  of  her  kept  coming  between 
him  and  his  work,  and  that  her  voice 
rang  softly  and  persistently  in  his  ear. 
Over  and  over  in  that  voice's  slender  music 
— plaintive,  laughing,  reaching  everywhere 
so  clearly — he  heard  the  detested  "line": 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE      73 

"  What  are  you  two  good  people  conspiring 
about?"  Over  and  over  he  saw  the  slow, 
comprehending  movement  with  which  she 
removed  her  hat  and  veil  to  let  Talbot 
Potter  judge  her.  And  as  she  stood,  with 
that  critic's  eye  searching  her,  Canby  re 
membered  that  through  some  untraceable 
association  of  ideas  he  had  inexplicably 
thought  of  a  drawing  of  "Florence  Dom- 
bey"  in  an  old  set  of  Dickens  engravings 
he  had  seen  at  his  grandfather's  in  his 
boyhood — and  had  not  seen  since.  And 
he  remembered  the  lilac  bushes  in  bloom 
on  a  May  morning  at  his  grandfather's. 
Somehow  she  made  him  think  of  them, 
too. 

And  as  he  sat  at  his  desk,  striving  to 
concentrate  upon  the  manuscript,  the 
clearness  with  which  Wanda  Malone  came 
before  him  increased:  she  became  more 


74  HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 
and  more  vivid  to  him,  and  she  would 
not  be  dismissed;  she  persisted  and  in 
sisted,  becoming  first  an  annoyance, 
and  then,  as  he  fought  the  witchery,  a 
serious  detriment  to  his  writing.  She  be 
came  part  of  every  thought  about  his 
play,  and  of  every  other  thought.  He 
did  not  want  her;  he  felt  no  interest  in 
her;  he  had  vital  work  to  do — and  she 
haunted  him,  seemed  to  be  in  the  very 
room  with  him.  He  worked  in  spite  of 
her,  but  she  pursued  him  none  the  less 
constantly:  she  had  gone  down  the  stairs 
to  dinner  with  him;  she  floated  before 
him  throughout  the  torture  of  Miss  Cor 
nish's  address;  she  was  present  even  when 
he  exploded  and  fled;  she  was  with  him 
now,  in  this  desolate  walk  toward  Talbot 
Potter's  apartment—the  pale,  symmetrical 
little  face  and  the  relentless  sweet  voice 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE       75 

commandeering  the  attention  he  waited 
desperately  to  keep  upon  what  he  meant 
to  say  to  Potter. 

Once  before  in  his  life  he  had  suffered 
such  an  experience:  that  of  having  his 
thoughts  possessed,  against  his  will,  by  a 
person  he  did  not  know  and  did  not  care 
to  know.  It  had  followed  his  happening 
to  see  an  intoxicated  truck-driver  lying 
beneath  an  overturned  wagon.  "Easy, 
boys!  Don'  mangle  me!"  the  man  kept 
begging  his  rescuers.  And  Canby  recalled 
how  "Easy,  boys!  Don'  mangle  me!" 
sounded  plaintively  in  his  ears  for  days, 
bothering  him  in  his  work  at  the  office. 
Remembering  it  now,  he  felt  a  spiteful 
satisfaction  in  classing  that  obsession  with 
this  one.  It  seemed  at  least  a  step  toward 
teaching  Miss  Wanda  Malone  to  know 
her  place. 


76      HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

But  he  got  no  respite  from  the  siege, 
and  was  still  incessantly  beleaguered  when 
he  encountered  the  marble  severities  of 
the  Pantheon  Apartments'  entrance  hall 
and  those  of  its  field-marshal,  who  paraded 
him  stonily  to  the  elevator.  Mr.  Potter's 
apartment  was  upon  the  twelfth  floor,  a 
fact  stated  in  a  monosyllable  by  the  field- 
marshal,  and  confirmed,  upon  the  opening 
of  the  cage  at  that  height,  by  Mr.  Potter's 
voice  melodiously  belling  a  flourish  of 
laughter  on  the  other  side  of  a  closed  door 
bearing  his  card.  It  was  rich  laughter, 
cadenced  and  deep  and  loud,  but  so 
musically  modulated  that,  though  it  might 
never  seem  impromptu,  even  old  Carson 
Tinker  had  once  declared  that  he  liked  to 
listen  to  it  almost  as  much  as  Potter  did. 

Old  Carson  Tinker  was  listening  to  it 
now,  as  Canby  discovered,  after  a  lisping 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE      77 

Japanese  had  announced  him  at  the  door 
way  of  a  cream-coloured  Louis  Sixteenth 
salon:  an  exquisite  apartment,  delicately 
personalized  here  and  there  by  luxurious 
fragilities  which  would  have  done  charm 
ingly,  on  the  stage,  for  a  marquise's  bou 
doir.  Old  Tinker,  in  evening  dress,  sat 
uncomfortably,  sideways,  upon  the  edge 
of  a  wicker  and  brocade  "chaise  longue," 
finishing  a  tiny  glass  of  chartreuse,  while 
Talbot  Potter,  in  the  middle  of  the  room, 
took  leave  of  a  second  guest  who  had  been 
dining  with  him. 

Potter  was  concluding  the  rendition 
of  hilarity  which  had  penetrated  to  the 
outer  hall,  and,  merely  waving  the  play 
wright  toward  Tinker,  swept  the  same 
gesture  upward  to  complete  it  by  resting 
a  cordial  hand  upon  the  departing  guest's 
shoulder.  This  personage,  a  wasp-figured, 


78      HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

languorous  youth,  with  pale  plastered 
hair  over  a  talcum  face,  flicked  his  host 
lightly  upon  the  breast  with  a  pair  of 
white  gloves. 

"None  the  less,  Pottuh,"  he  said, 
"why  shouldn't  you  play  Othello  as  a 
mulatto?  I  maintain,  you  see,  it  would 
be  taking  a  step  in  technique;  they'd  get 
the  face,  you  see.  Then  I  want  you  to  do 
something  really  and  truly  big:  QEdipus. 
Why  not  (Edipus?  Think  of  giving  the 
States  a  thing  like  (Edipus  done  as  you 
could  do  it!  Of  coss,  I  don't  say  you 
could  ever  be  another  Mewnay-Sooyay. 
No.  I  don't  go  that  far.  You  haven't 
Mewnay-Sooyay's  technique.  But  you 
could  give  us  just  the  savour  of  Attic 
culture — at  least  the  savour,  you  see. 
The  mere  savour  would  be  something. 
Why  should  you  keep  on  producing  these 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE       79 

cheap  little  plays  they  foist  on  you?  Oh, 
I  know  you  always  score  a  personal  suc 
cess  in  the  wahst  of  them,  but  they've  never 
given  you  a  Big  character — and  the  play, 
outside  of  you,  is  always  piffle.  Of  coss, 
you  know  what  I've  always  wanted  you 
to  do,  what  I've  constantly  insisted  in 
print:  Rostand.  You  commission  Ro 
stand  to  do  one  of  his  magnificent  things 
for  you  and  we  serious  men  will  do  our 
part.  Now,  my  duh  good  chap,  I  must 
be  getting  on,  or  the  little  gel  will  be  tele 
phoning  all  round  the  town ! "  He  turned 
to  the  door,  pausing  upon  the  threshold. 
"Now,  don't  let  any  of  these  cheap  little 
fellows  foist  any  of  their  cheap  little  plays 
on  you.  This  for  my  stirrup-cup:  you 
cable  Rostand  to-morrow.  Drop  the 
cheap  little  things  and  cable  Rostand. 
Jell  him  I  suggested  it,  if  you  like." 


80      HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

disappeared  in  the  hallway,  calling  back: 
"My  duh  Pottuh,  good-night!"  And 
the  outer  door  was  heard  to  close. 

Canby,  feeling  a  natural  prejudice 
against  this  personage,  glanced  uneasily 
at  Talbot  Potter's  face  and  was  surprised 
to  find  that  fine  bit  of  modelling  con 
torted  with  rage.  The  sight  of  this  emo 
tion  was  reassuring,  but  its  source  was  a 
mystery,  for  it  had  seemed  to  the  play 
wright  that  the  wasp-waisted  youth's  re 
marks — though  horribly  damaging  to  the 
cheap  little  Canbys  with  their  cheap  little 
"  Roderick  Hanscoms" — wereon  the  whole 
rather  flattering  to  the  subject  of  them, 
and  betokened  a  real  interest  in  his  career. 

"Ass!"  said  Potter. 

Canby  exhaled  a  breath  of  relief.  He 
began  to  feel  that  it  might  be  possible  to 
like  this  man. 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE      81 

"Ass!"  said  Potter,  striding  up  and 
down  the  room.  "Ass!  Ass!  Ass!  Ass!" 

And  Canby  felt  easier  and  happier. 
He  foresaw,  too,  that  there  would  be  no 
cabling  to  Rostand,  a  thing  he  had  naively 
feared,  for  a  moment,  as  imminent. 

Potter  halted,  bursting  into  speech  less 
monosyllabic  but  no  less  vehement:  " Mr. 
Tinker,  did  you  ever  see  Mounet-Sully?" 

"No." 

"Did  you,  Mr.  Canby?" 

"No." 

"  'Mewnay-Sooyay!' '  Potter  mimicked 
the  pronunciation  of  his  adviser.  "  'Mew- 
nay-Sooyay !  Of  coss  I  dont  say  YOU 
could  ever  be  another  Mewnay-Sooyay ! '  Ass ! 
I'll  tell  you  what  Mounet-Sully's  'tech 
nique'  amounts  to,  Mr.  Tinker.  It's 
yell!  Just  yell,  yell,  yell !  Does  he  think 
I  can't  yell!  Why,  Packer  could  open 


82      HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

his  mouth  like  a  hippopotamus  and  yell 
through  a  part!  Ass!" 

"Was  that  young  man  a — a  critic?" 
Canby  asked. 

" No ! "  shouted  Potter.  "There  aren't 
any!" 

"He  writes  about  theatrical  matters," 
said  Carson  Tinker.  "Talky-talk  writ 
ing  :  '  the  drama'-  -'  temperament' — '  peo 
ple  of  cultivation' — quotes  Latin  or  Ital 
ian  or  something.  '  Technique'  is  his  star 
word:  he  plays  'technique'  for  a  hand 
every  other  line.  Doesn't  do  any  harm; 
in  fact,  I  think  he  does  us  a  good  deal  of 
good.  Lots  of  people  read  that  talky- 
talk  writing  nowadays.  Not  in  New  York, 
but  in  road-towns,  where  they  have  plenty 
of  time.  This  fellow's  never  against  any 
show  much,  unless  he  takes  a  notion.  You 
slip  '  dolsy  far  nienty '  or  something  about 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE      83 

Danty  or  logarithms  somewhere  into  your 
play,  where  it  won't  delay  the  action  much, 
and  he'll  be  for  you." 

Canby  nodded  and  laughed  eagerly. 
Tinker  seemed  to  take  it  for  granted  that 
"Roderick  Hanscom"  was  to  be  produced 
in  spite  of  "another  play  I  have  been  con 
sidering." 

"There  aren't  any  critics,  I  tell  you!" 
Potter  stormed.  "  Mounet-Sully ! " 

"Well,"  said  old  Tinker  quietly,  "I'd 
like  to  believe  it,  but  people  making  a  liv 
ing  that  way  have  ruined  a  good  many 
million  dollars'  worth  of  property  in  this 
town.  Some  of  it  was  very  good  prop 
erty."  He  paused,  and  added:  "Some 
of  it  was  mine,  too." 

"Good  property?"  said  the  playwright 
with  fresh  uneasiness.  "You  mean  the 
critics  sometimes  ruin  a  good  play?" 


84      HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

"How  do  they  know  a  good  play- 
good  acting?"  Tinker  returned  placidly. 
"  Every  play  you  ever  saw  in  your  life,  some 
people  in  the  audience  said  they  thought  it 
was  good:  some  said  it  was  bad.  How  do 
critics  know  any  more  about  it  than  any 
body  else?  For  instance,  how  can  any 
body  that  hasn't  been  in  the  business  tell 
what's  good  acting  and  what's  a  good 
part?" 

"But  a  critic — aren't  critics  in  the 
bus—" 

"No.  They  aren't  theatrical  people," 
said  Tinker  dryly.  "They're  writers." 

"But  some  of  them  must  have  studied 
from  the  inside,"  Canby  urged,  feeling 
that  "Roderick  Hanscom's"  chances  were 
getting  slighter  and  slighter.  "Some  of 
them  must  have  either  been  managers  for 
a  while,  or  actors — or  had  plays  pro " 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE      85 

"No,"  said  Tinker.  " If  they  had  they 
wouldn't  do  for  critics.  They  wouldn't 
have  the  heart." 

"They  oughtn't  to  have  so  much 
power!"  the  young  man  exclaimed  pas 
sionately.  "  Think  of  a  playwright  work 
ing  on  his  play — two  years,  maybe- 
night  after  night — and  then,  all  in  one 
swoop,  these  fellows  that  you  say  don't 
know  anything 

"  Power ! "  Potter  laughed  contemptu 
ously.  "Tinker,  you're  in  your  dotage! 
Look  at  what  I've  done:  Haven't  I  made 
my  way  in  spite  of  everything  they  could 
do  to  stifle  me?  And  have  I  ever  com 
promised  for  one  moment?  Haven't  I 
gone  my  own  way,  absolutely?" 

"Yes."  Tinker's  face  was  more  cryp 
tic  than  usual.  'Yes,  indeed!" 

"Power!       Haven't  I  made  them  eat 


86  HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 
out  of  my  hand?  Look  at  that  ass — glad 
to  crawl  in  here  and  nibble  a  crust  from 
my  table  to-night !  Ass ! "  He  had  halted 
for  a  second  in  front  of  the  manager, 
but  resumed  his  pacing  with  a  mut 
ter  of  subterranean  thunder:  "Mounet- 
Sully!" 

"Hasn't  the  public  got  a  mind?"  cried 
Canby.  "Doesn't  the  public  understand 
that  a  good  play  might  be  ruined  by  these 
scoundrels?" 

Old  Tinker  returned  his  chartreuse 
glass  to  the  case  whence  it  came,  a  min 
iature  sedan  chair  in  silver  and  painted 
silk.  "The  public?"  he  said.  "I've 
never  been  able  to  find  out  what  that  was. 
Just  about  the  time  I  decided  it  was  a 
trained  sheep  it  turned  out  to  be  a  cyclone. 
You  think  it's  intelligent,  and  it  plays  the 
fool:  you  decide  it's  a  fool,  and  it  turns 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE      87 

out  to  know  more  than  you  do.  You 
make  love  to  it,  and  it  may  sidle  up  and 
kiss  you — or  give  you  a  good,  hard  kick!" 

"But  if  we  make  this  a  good  play— 

"It  won't  be  a  play  at  all,"  said  Tinker, 
"unless  the  public  thinks  it's  a  good  one. 
A  play  isn't  something  you  read;  it's 
something  actors  do  on  a  stage;  and  they 
can't  afford  to  do  it  unless  the  public 
pays  to  watch  'em.  If  it  won't  buy  tick 
ets,  you  haven't  got  a  play;  you've  only 
got  some  typewriting." 

Canby  glanced  involuntarily  at  the 
blue-covered  manuscript  he  had  placed 
upon  a  table  beside  him.  It  had  a  guilty 
look. 

"I  get  confused,"  he  said.  "If  the 
public's  so  flighty,  why  does  it  take  so 
much  stock  in  what  these  wolves  print 
about  a  play?" 


88      HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

"  Print.  That's  it,"  old  Tinker  answered 
serenely.  "  Write  your  opinion  in  a  letter 
or  say  it  with  your  mouth,  and  it  doesn't 
amount  to  anything.  Print's  different. 
You  see  some  nonsense  about  yourself 
in  a  newspaper,  and  you  think  I'm  an 
idiot  for  believing  it.  But  you  read  non 
sense  about  me,  and  you  believe  it.  You 
don't  stop  and  think:  'That's  a  lie; 
he  isn't  that  sort  of  a  man.'  No.  You 
just  wonder  why  I'm  such  a  darn 
fool." 

"Then  these  cannibals  have  got  us 
where " 

"Dotage!"  Talbot  Potter  broke  in, 
halting  under  the  chandelier.  "Tinker's 
reached  his  dotage!"  He  levelled  a  de 
nouncing  forefinger  at  the  manager.  "  Do 
you  mean  to  tell  me  that  if  I  decide 
to  go  on  with  Mr.  Canby's  play  any  critic 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE      89 

or  combination  or  cabal  of  critics  can 
keep  it  from  being  a  success?  Then  I 
tell  you,  you're  in  your  dotage!  For  one 
point,  if  I  play  this  part  they're  going 
to  say  it's  a  big  thing:  I  don't  mean 
the  play,  of  course,  because  you  must 
know,  yourself,  Mr.  Canby,  we  could  bribe 
them  into  calling  it  a  strong  play.  We 
know  it  isn't,  and  they'll  know  it  isn't. 
What  I  mean  is  the  characterization  of 
'Roderick  Hanscom.'  I  tell  you,  if  I  do 
it  they're  going  to  call  it  a  big  thing. 
They  aren't  all  maniacs  about  everything 
made  in  France,  thank  heaven !  Rostand ! 
Ass!  I'm  not  playing  parts  with  a  clothes 
pin  on  the  end  of  my  nose!"  And  again 
he  mimicked  the  departed  visitor:  "'This 
for  my  stirrup-cup:  you  cable  Rostand  to 
morrow.9  My  soul!  Does  he  think  I 
want  to  play  CHICKENS?" 


90      HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

Sulphurously,  he  resumed  his  pacing 
of  the  floor. 

Old  Tinker  seemed  unaffected  by  this 
outburst,  but  for  that  matter  he  seemed 
unaffected  by  anything.  His  dead  gaze 
followed  his  employer's  to-and-fro  strid 
ing  as  a  cat's  follows  a  pendulum,  but 
without  the  cat's  curiosity  about  a  pendu 
lum.  He  never  interrupted  when  Potter 
was  speaking;  and  Canby  noticed  that 
whenever  Potter  talked  at  any  length  Tin 
ker  looked  thoughtful  and  distant,  like  a 
mechanic  so  accustomed  to  the  whirr  and 
thunder  of  the  machine-shop  that  he  may 
indulge  in  reveries  there.  After  a  moment 
or  two  the  old  fellow  ceased  to  follow  the 
pendulum  stride,  and  turned  to  the  play 
wright. 

"I'll  tell  you  the  two  surest  ways  to 
make  what  you  call  the  public  like  a  play, 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE      91 

Mr.  Canby,"  he  said.  "Nothing  is  surev 
but  these  are  the  nearest  to  it.  Make 
'em  laugh.  I  mean,  make  'em  laugh  after 
they  get  home,  or  the  next  day  in  the 
office,  any  time  they  get  to  thinking  about 
it.  The  other  way  is  to  get  two  actors 
for  your  lovers  that  the  audience,  young 
and  old,  can't  help  falling  in  love  with;  a 
young  actor  that  the  females  in  the  audi 
ence  think  they'd  like  to  marry,  and  a 
young  actress  that  the  males  all  think 
they'd  like  to  marry.  It  doesn't  matter 
much  about  the  writing;  just  have  some 
thing  interfere  between  them  from  eight- 
fifteen  until  along  about  twenty-five  min 
utes  after  ten.  The  two  lovers  don't 
necessarily  have  to  know  much  about 
acting,  either,  though  of  course  it's  better 
if  they  happen  to.  The  best  stage-lover 
I  ever  knew,  and  the  one  that  played  in 


92      HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

the  most  successes,  did  happen  to  under 
stand  acting  thor " 

"Who  was  that?"  Potter  interrupted 
fiercely.  "  Mounet-Sully  ?  " 

"  No.     I  meant  Dora  Preston." 

"Never  heard  of  her!" 

"No,"  said  the  old  man.  "You 
wouldn't.  They  don't  put  up  monuments 
to  pretty  actresses,  nor  write  about  them  in 
school  histories.  She  dropped  dead  in  her 
dressing-room  one  night  forty-two  years 
ago.  I  was  thinking  of  her  to-day:  some 
thing  reminded  me  of  her." 

"Was  she  a  friend  of  yours,  Mr.  Tin 
ker?"  Canby  asked. 

"Friend?  No.  I  was  an  usher  in  the 
old  Calumet  Theatre,  and  she  owned 
New  York.  She  had  this  quality:  every 
man  in  the  audience  fell  in  love  with  her. 
So  did  the  women,  too,  for  that  matter, 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE      93 

and  the  actors  who  played  with  her. 
When  she  played  a  love-scene,  people 
who'd  been  married  thirty  years  would 
sit  and  watch  her  and  hold  each  other's 
hands — yes,  with  tears  in  their  eyes.  I've 
seen  'em.  And  after  the  performance, 
one  night,  the  stage-door  keeper,  a  man 
seventy  years  old,  was  caught  kissing 
the  latch  of  the  door  where  she'd  touched 
it;  and  he  was  sober,  too.  There  wa^ 
something  about  her  looks  and  something 
about  her  voice  you  couldn't  get  away 
from.  You  couldn't  tell  to  save  you 
what  it  was,  but  after  you'd  seen  her 
she'd  seem  to  be  with  you  for  days,  and 
you  couldn't  think  much  about  anything 
else,  even  if  you  wanted  to.  People  used 
to  go  around  in  a  kind  of  spell;  they 
couldn't  think  of  anything  or  talk  of  any 
thing  but  Dora  Preston.  It  didn't  matter 


94      HAKLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

much  what  she  did:  everything  she  did 
made  you  feel  like  a  boy  falling  in  love 
the  first  time.  It  made  you  think  of 
apple-blossoms  and  moonlight  just  to  look 
at  her.  She " 

"See  here,  Mr.  Canby"— Talbot  Pot 
ter  interrupted  suddenly.  He  dropped  in 
to  a  chair  and  picked  up  the  manuscript — 
"See  here!  I've  got  an  idea  that  may 
save  this  play.  Suppose  we  let  'Rod 
erick  Hanscom'  make  his  sacrifice,  not  for 
the  heroine,  but  because  he's  in  love  with 
the  other  girl — the  ingenue — I've  for 
gotten  the  name  you  call  her  in  the  script. 
I  mean  the  part  played  by  that  little  Miss 
Miss  girl — Miss-what's-her-name — Wanda 
Malone!" 

Canby  stared  at  Potter  in  fascinated 
amazement,  his  straining  eyes  showing 
the  whites  above  and  below  the  pupils. 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE      95 

It  was  the  look  of  a  man  struck  dumb  by 
a  sudden  marvel  of  telepathy. 

"Why,  yes/'  he  said  slowly,  when  he 
had  recovered  his  breath,  "I  believe  that 
would  be  a  good  idea!" 


VII 


FOR  two  hours,  responding  to  the 
manipulation    of    the     star     and 
his  thoroughly  subjugated    play 
wright,  the  character  of  "Roderick  Han- 
scom"  grew  nobler  and  nobler,   speech 
by  speech  and  deed  by  deed,  while  the 
expression  of  the  gentleman  who  was  to 
impersonate  it  became,  in  precise  parallel 
with  this  regeneration,  sweeter  and  loftier 
and  lovelier. 

"A  little  Biblical  quotation  wouldn't 
go  so  bad  right  in  there,"  he  said,  when 

96 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE      97 

they  had  finally  established  the  Great 
Sacrifice  for  a  Woman.  "We'll  let  Rod 
erick  have  a  line  like:  'Greater  love  hath 
no  man  than  laying  down  his  life  to  save 
another's."  He  touched  a  page  of  the 
manuscript  with  his  finger.  "There's  a 
good  place  for  it." 

"Aren't  you  afraid  it  would  sound  a 
little — smug?"  Canby  asked  timidly. 
"The  way  we've  got  him  now,  Roderick 
seems  to  me  to  be  always  seeing  himself 
as  a  splendid  man  and  sort  of  pointing  it 
out  to  the " 

"Good  gracious!"  cried  Potter,  as 
tounded.  "Hasn't  it  got  to  be  pointed 
out?  The  audience  hasn't  got  a  whole 
lifetime  to  study  him  in;  it's  only  got 
about  two  hours.  Besides,  I  don't  see 
what  you  say;  I  don't  see  it  at  all!  It 
seems  to  me  I've  worked  him  around 


98      HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

into  being  a  perfectly  natural  char 
acter." 

"I  suppose  you're  right,"  said  Canby, 
meekly  scribbling. 

"Biblical  quotations  never  do  any 
harm  to  the  box-office,"  Potter  added. 
"  You  may  not  get  a  hand  on  'em,  but  you'll 
never  get  a  cough,  either."  He  looked 
dreamily  at  the  ceiling.  "I've  often 
thought  of  doing  a  Biblical  play.  I'd  have 
it  built  around  the  character  of  St.  Paul. 
That's  one  they  haven't  touched  yet,  and 
it's  new.  I  wouldn't  do  it  with  a  beard 
and  long  hair.  I  wouldn't  use  much  make 
up.  No.  Just  the  face  as  it  is." 

"You  can  do  practically  anything  with 
a  religious  show,"  said  Tinker.  "That's 
been  proved.  You  can  run  in  gambling 
and  horse-racing  and  ballys,  and  you'll 
get  people  into  the  house,  night  after 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE  99 
night,  that  think  the  theatre's  wicked 
and  wouldn't  go  to  see  'Rip  Van  Winkle.' 
They  do  a  lot  of  good,  too— religious 
shows — just  that  way." 

"I  think  I'd  play  it  in  armour,"  Potter 
continued  his  thought,  still  gazing  at  the 
ceiling.  "I  believe  it  would  be  a  big 
thing." 

"It  might  if  it  was  touted  right,"  said 
Tinker.  "It  all  depends  on  the  touting. 
If  you  get  it  touted  to  the  tank  towns  that 
you've  got  a  play  with  the  great  religious 
gonzabo,  then  your  show's  a  big  property. 
Same  if  you  get  it  touted  for  a  great  edu 
cational  gonzabo.  Or  'artistic.'  Get  it 
touted  right  for  'artistic,'  and  the  tanks'll 
think  they  like  it,  even  if  they  don't. 
Look  at  'Cyrano' — they  liked  Mansfield 
and  his  acting,  but  they  didn't  like  the 
show.  They  said  they  liked  the  show,  and 


100    HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

thought  they  did,  but  they  didn't.  If 
they'd  liked  it  as  much  as  they  said  they 
did,  that  show  would  be  running  like 
'  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin.'  Speaking  of  that " 
— he  paused,  coughed,  and  went  on — "I'm 
glad  you've  got  the  ingenue's  part  straight 
ened  out  in  this  piece.  I  thought  from  the 
first  it  would  stand  a  little  lengthening." 
Potter,  unheeding,  dreamily  proceeded: 
"In  silver  armour.  Might  silver  the 
hair  a  little — not  too  much.  Play  it  as 
a  spiritual  character,  but  not  solemn. 
Wouldn't  make  it  turgid:  keep  it  light. 
Have  the  whole  play  spiritual  but  light. 
For  instance,  have  room  in  it  for  a  re 
ligious  ingenue  part — make  her  a  younger 
sister  of  Mary  Magdalen,  say,  with  St. 
Paul  becoming  converted  for  her  sake 
after  he'd  been  a  Roman  General.  I  be 
lieve  it's  a  big  idea." 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE     101 

Canby  was  growing  nervous.  All  this 
seemed  to  be  rambling  farther  and  farther 
from  "Roderick  Hanscom."  Potter  re 
lieved  his  anxiety,  however,  after  a 
thoughtful  sigh,  by  saying  abruptly: 
"Well,  well,  we  can't  go  into  a  big  pro 
duction  like  that,  this  late  in  the  year. 
We'll  have  to  see  what  can  be  done  with 
'Roderick  Hanscom."3  He  looked  at 
the  door,  where  the  Japanese  was  per 
forming  a  shrinking  curtsey.  "What  is 
it,  Sato?" 

"MissPata." 

"Who?" 

"MissPata." 

A  voice  called  from  the  hallway :     "  It's 
me,  Mr.  Potter.     Packer." 

"  Oh,  come  in !     Come  in ! " 

The  stage-manager  made  a  deferential 
entrance.     "It's  about  Miss " 


102    HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

"Sit  down,  Packer." 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Potter."  Evidently 
considering  the  command  a  favour,  Packer 
sat.  "I  saw  Miss  Lyston,  sir " 

"I  won't  turn  her  adrift,"  said  his  em 
ployer  peevishly.  "You  see,  Mr.  Canby, 
here's  another  of  the  difficulties  of  my 
position.  Miss  Lyston  has  been  with  me 
for  several  years,  and  for  this  piece  we've 
got  somebody  I  think  will  play  her  part 
better,  but  I  haven't  any  other  part  for 
Miss  Lyston.  And  we  start  so  late  in  the 
season,  this  year,  she'll  probably  not  be 
able  to  get  anything  else  to  do;  so  she's 
on  my  hands.  I  can't  turn  people  out  in 
the  snow  like  that.  Some  managers  can, 
but  7  can't.  And  yet  I  have  letters  beg 
ging  me  for  all  kinds  of  charities  every 
day.  They  don't  know  what  my  com 
pany  costs  me  in  money  like  this — abso- 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE     103 

lutely  thrown  away  so  far  as  any  benefit 
to  me  is  concerned.  And  often  I  find  I've 
been  taken  advantage  of,  too.  I  shouldn't 
be  at  all  surprised  to  find  that  Miss  Lys- 
ton  has  comfortable  investments  right 
now,  and  that  she's  only  scheming  to— 
Packer,  don't  you  know  whether  she's  been 
saving  her  salary  or  not?  If  you  don't 
you  ought  to." 

"  I  came  to  tell  you,  sir.  I  thought  you 
might  be  relieved  to  know.  We  don't 
have  to  bother  about  her,  Mr.  Potter. 
I've  been  to  see  her  at  her  flat,  this  eve 
ning,  and  she's  as  anxious  to  get  away 
from  us,  Mr.  Potter,  as  we  are  to— 

The  star  rose  to  his  feet,  his  face  suf 
fusing.  "You  sit  there,"  he  exclaimed, 
"and  tell  me  that  a  member  of  my  com 
pany  finds  the  association  so  distasteful 
that  she  wants  to  get  away!" 


104    HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

"Oh,  no,  Mr.  Potter!"  the  stage-man 
ager  protested.  "  Not  that  at  all !  She's 
very  sorry  to  go.  She  asked  me  to  tell 
you  that  she  felt  she  was  giving  up  a  great 
honour,  and  to  thank  you  for  all  your 
kindness  to  her." 

"Go  on!"  Potter  sternly  bade  him. 
"Why  does  she  wish  to  leave  my  com 
pany?" 

"Why,  it  seems  she's  very  much  in 
love  with  her  husband,  sir,  Vorly  Sur- 
bilt " 

"It  doesn't  seem  possible,"  said  Potter, 
shaking  his  head.  "I  know  him,  and  it 
sounds  like  something  you're  making  up 
as  you  go  along,  Packer." 

"Indeed,  I'm  not,  Mr.  Potter!"  the 
stage-manager  cried,  in  simple  distress. 
"I  wouldn't  know  how." 

"Go  on!" 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE     105 

"  Well,  sir,  it  seems  Vorly  Surbilt  was  to 
go  out  with  Mrs.  Romaley,  and  it  seems 
that  when  Miss  Lyston  left  rehearsal  she 
drove  around  till  she  found  him— 

"Ah!  I  knew  she  was  fooling  me! 
I  knew  she  wasn't  sick!  Went  to  drive 
with  her  husband,  and  /  pay  the  cab 
bill!" 

"No,  no,  sir!  I  forgot  to  tell  you:  she 
wouldn't  let  me  pay  it.  She  took  him 
home  and  put  him  to  bed — and  from 
what  I  heard  on  Broadway  it  was  time 
somebody  did!  It  seems  they'd  had  an 
offer  to  go  into  a  vaudeville  piece  to 
gether,  and  after  she  got  him  to  bed  she 
telephoned  the  vaudeville  man,  and  had 
him  bring  up  a  contract,  and  they  signed 
it,  though  she  had  to  guide  Vorly's  hand 
for  him.  Anyway,  he's  signed  up  all  right, 
and  so  is  she.  That's  why  she  was  so 


106     HA&LEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

anxious  about  fixing  it  up  with  us.  I  told 
her  it  would  be  all  right." 

Potter  relapsed  into  his  chair  in  an 
attitude  of  gloom.  "So  they've  begun 
to  leave  Talbot  Potter's  company!"  he 
said,  nodding  his  head  with  bitter  melan 
choly.  "For  vaudeville !  I'd  better  go  to 
farming  at  once;  I  often  think  of  it.  What 
sort  of  an  act  is  it  that  Miss  Lyston  pre 
fers  to  remaining  with  me?  Acrobatic?" 

"It's  a  little  play,"  said  Packer.  "It's 
from  the  Grand  Guignol." 

"French!"  Potter  took  this  simply 
as  an  added  insult  on  the  part  of  Miss 
Lyston.  "French!" 

"They  say  it's  a  wonderful  little 
thing,"  said  Packer  innocently,  but  it 
was  as  if  he  had  run  a  needle  into  his  sen 
sitive  employer.  Potter  instantly  sprang 
up  again  with  a  cry  of  pain. 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE     107 

"Of  course  it's  wonderful!  It's  French: 
everything  French  is  wonderful,  magnifi 
cent.  Supreme!  Everything  French  is 
HOLY!  Good  God,  Packer!  You'll  be 
telling  me  what  my  'technique'  ought  to 
be,  next!" 

He  hurled  himself  again  into  the  chair  and 
moaned,  then  in  a  dismal  voice  inquired: 
"Miss  Lyston  struck  you  as  feeling  that 
her  condition  in  life  was  distinctly  improved 
by  this  ascent  into  vaudeville,  didn't  she?  " 

"Oh,  not  at  all,  Mr.  Potter!  But,  of 
course,"  Packer  explained  deprecatingly, 
"she's  pleased  to  have  Vorly  where  she 
can  keep  an  eye  on  him.  She  said  that 
though  she  was  all  broken  up  about  leav 
ing  the  company,  she  expected  to  be  very 
happy  in  looking  after  him.  You  see,  sir, 
it's  the  first  time  in  all  their  married  life 
they've  had  a  chance  to  be  together  ex- 


108     HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

cept  one  summer  when  neither  of  'em 
could  get  a  stock  engagement." 

Potter  made  no  reply  but  to  shake  his 
head  despondently,  and  Packer  sat  silent 
in  deference,  as  if  waiting  to  be  questioned 
further.  It  was  the  playwright  who 
presently  filled  the  void.  "Why  haven't 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Surbilt  gone  into  the  same 
companies,  if  they  care  to  be  together? 
I  should  think  they'd  have  made  it  a  point 
to  get  engagements  in  the  same  ones." 

Packer  looked  disturbed.  "It's  not 
done  much,"  he  said. 

"Besides,  Vorly  Surbilt  plays  leading 
parts  with  women  stars,"  old  Tinker  vol 
unteered.  "  You  see,  naturally,  it  wouldn't 
do  at  all." 

"Jealousy,  you  mean?" 

"  Not  necessarily  the  kind  you're  think 
ing  of.  But  it  just  doesn't  do." 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE     109 

"Some  managers  will  allow  married 
couples  in  their  companies,"  Potter  said, 
adding  emphatically :  "I  won't!  I  never 
have  and  I  never  will!  Never!  There's 
just  one  thing  every  soul  in  my  support 
has  got  to  keep  working  for,  and  that  is 
a  high-tension  performance  every  night 
in  the  year.  If  married  people  are  in 
love  with  each  other,  they're  going  to 
think  more  about  that  than  about  the 
fact  that  they're  working  for  me.  If  they 
aren't  in  love  with  each  other,  there's  the 
devil  to  pay.  I'd  let  the  best  man  or 
woman  in  the  profession  go — and  they 
could  go  to  vaudeville,  for  all  I  cared! 
—if  I  had  to  keep  their  wives  or  husbands 
travelling  with  us.  I  won't  have  'em! 
My  soul!  /  don't  marry,  do  I?" 

Packer  rose.  "Is  there  anything  else 
forme,  Mr.  Potter?" 


110    HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

;<Yes.  Take  this  interlined  script,  get 
some  copies  typewritten,  and  see  that  the 
company's  sides  are  changed  to  suit  it. 
Be  especially  careful  about  that  young 
Miss — ah — Miss  Malone's.  You'll  find 
her  part  is  altered  considerably,  and  will 
be  even  more,  when  Mr.  Canby  gets 
the  dialogue  for  other  changes  finished. 
He'll  let  you  have  them  to-morrow.  By 

the  way,  Packer,  where  did  you  find " 

He  paused,  stretched  out  his  hand  to  the 
miniature  sedan  chair  of  liqueurs,  took  a 
decanter  and  tiny  glass  therefrom,  and 
carefully  poured  himself  a  sparkling  em 
erald  of  creme  de  menihe.  "  Will  you  have 
something,  Mr.  Canby? "  heasked.  "You, 
Tinker?" 

Both  declined  in  silence:  they  seemed 
preoccupied. 

"  Where  did  I  what,  Mr.  Potter?  "  asked 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE     111 

the  stage-manager,  reminding  him  of  the 
question  left  unfinished. 

"What?" 

"You  said:  'By  the  way,  where  did 
you  find— 

"Oh,  yes."  Potter  smiled  negligently. 
"Where  did  you  find  that  little  Miss 
Malone?  At  the  agents'?" 

Packer  echoed  him:  "Where  did  I  find 
her?  "  He  scratched  his  head.     "  Miss  "- 
he  said  ruminatively,  repeating  the  word 
slowly,  like  a  man  trying  to  work  out  the 
solution  of  a  puzzle — "Miss— 

"Miss  Malone.  I  suppose  you  got  her 
at  an  agent's?" 

"Let's  see,"  said  Packer.  "At  an 
agent's?  No.  No,  it  wasn't.  Come  to 
think  of  it,  it  wasn't." 

"Then  where  did  you  get  her?"  Tinker 
inquired. 


112    HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

"  That's  what  I  just  asked  him,"  Potter 
said,  placing  his  glass  upon  a  table  without 
having  tasted  the  liqueur.  "  What's  the 
matter,  Packer?  Gone  to  sleep?" 

"I  remember  now,"  said  Packer,  laugh 
ing  deferentially.  "Of  course!  No.  It 
wasn't  through  any  of  the  agents.  Now  I 
remember — come  to  think  of  it — I  sort  of 
ran  across  her  myself,  as  a  matter  of  fact. 
I  wasn't  just  sure  who  you  meant  at  first. 
You  mean  the  understudy,  the  one  that's 
to  play  Miss  Lyston's  part,  that  Miss — 

Miss "  He  snapped  a  finger  and 

thumb  to  spur  memory  and  then,  as  in 
triumphant  solution  of  his  puzzle,  cried, 
"  Ma— Malone !  Miss  Malone ! " 

"Yes,"  said  Potter,  looking  upon  him 
darkly.  "  Where  did  you  sort  of  run  across 
her,  come  to  think  of  it,  as  a  matter  of  fact? 

*'Qh,  I  remember  all  about  it  now," 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE     US 

said  Packer  brightly.  "Why,  she  was 
playing  last  summer  in  stock  out  at  Seeley- 
ville,  Pennsylvania.  That's  only  about 
six  miles  from  Packer's  Ridge,  where  my 
father  lives.  I  spent  a  couple  of  weeks 
with  him,  and  we  trolleyed  over  one  eve 
ning  to  see  'The  Little  Minister,'  be 
cause  father  got  it  in  his  head  some  way 
that  it  was  about  the  Baptists,  and  I 
couldn't  talk  him  out  of  it.  It  wasn't  as 
bad  a  performance  as  you'd  think,  and 
this  little  girl  was  a  pretty  fair  'Babbie.' 
Father  forgot  all  about  the  Baptists  and 
kept  talking  about  her  after  we  got  home, 
until  nothing  would  do  but  we  must  go 
over  and  see  that  show  again.  He  wanted 
to  take  her  right  out  to  the  farm  and 
adopt  her — or  something:  he's  a  widower, 
and  all  alone  out  there.  Fact  is,  I  had 
all  I  could  do  to  keep  him  from  going 


114     HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

around  to  ask  her,  and  I  was  pretty  near 
afraid  he'd  speak  to  her  from  the  audi 
ence.  Well,  to  satisfy  him,  I  did  go 
around  after  the  show,  and  gave  her  my 
card,  and  told  her  if  I  could  do  anything 
for  her  in  New  York  to  let  me  know.  Of 
course,  naturally,  when  I  got  back  to 
town  I  forgot  all  about  it,  but  I  got  a 
note  from  her  that  she  was  here,  looking  for 
an  engagement,  the  very  day  you  told  me 
to  scare  up  an  understudy.  So  I  thought 
she  might  do  as  well  as  anybody  I'd  get  at 
the  agent's,  and  I  let  her  have  it."  He 
drew  a  breath  of  relief,  like  that  of  a  wit 
ness  leaving  the  stand,  and  with  another 
placative  laugh,  letting  his  eyes  fall  humbly 
under  the  steady  scrutiny  of  his  master,  he 
concluded:  "Of  course  I  remember  all 
about  it,  only  at  first  I  wasn't  sure  which 
one  you  meant :  it's  such  a  large  company." 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE     115 

"I  see,"  said  Potter  grimly.  "You 
engaged  her  to  please  your  father." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Potter!"  the  stage-manager 
protested.  "If  you  don't  like  her 

"That  will  do!"  Potter  cut  him  off, 
and  paced  the  floor,  virulently  brooding. 
"And  so  Talbot  Potter's  company  is  to 
be  made  up  of  actors  engaged  to  suit  the 
personal  whims  of  L.  Smith  Packer's 
father,  old  Mister  Packer  of  Baptist  Ridge, 
near  Seeleyville,  Pennsylvania!" 

"But,  Mr.  Potter,  if  you  don't— 

"I  said  that  would  DO!"  roared  Potter. 
"Good-night!" 

"Good-night,  sir,"  said  the  stage-man 
ager  humbly,  and  humbly  got  himself  out 
of  the  room,  to  be  heard,  an  instant  later, 
bidding  the  Japanese  an  apologetic  good 
night  at  the  outer  door  of  the  apartment. 

Canby  rose  to  take  his  own  departure, 


116    HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

promising  to  have  the  new  dialogue 
"worked  out"  by  morning. 

"He  is,  too!"  said  Potter,  not  heeding 
the  playwright,  but  confirming  an  un- 
uttered  thought  in  his  own  mind.  He 
halted  at  the  table,  where  he  had  set  his 
tiny  glass,  and  gulped  the  emerald  at  a 
swallow.  "I  always  thought  he  was!" 

"Was  what?"  inquired  old  Tinker. 

"A  hypocrite!" 

"D'you  mean  Packer?"  said  Tinker 
incredulously. 

"He's  a  hypocrite!"  Potter  shouted 
fiercely.  "And  I  shouldn't  be  surprised 
if  his  father  was  another!  Widower!  I 
never  saw  the  man  in  my  life,  but  I'd 
swear  it  on  oath!  He  is  a  hypocrite! 
Packer's  father  is  a  damned  old  Baptist 
hypocrite!" 


VIII 

WITH  this  sonorous  bit  of  charac 
ter  reading  still  ringing  in  his 
ears,  Canby  emerged  from  the 
cream-coloured  apartment  to  find  the 
stoop-shouldered  figure  of  the  also  hypocrit 
ical  son  leaning  wearily  against  the  wall, 
waiting  for  a  delaying  elevator.  The  atti 
tude  was  not  wholly  devoid  of  pathos,  to 
Canby's  view  of  it.  Neither  was  the  care 
worn,  harried  face,  unharmoniously  topped 
by  a  green  hat  so  sparklingly  jaunty, 
not  only  in  colour  but  in  its  shape  and 

117 


118     HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

the  angle  of  its  perch,  that  it  was  out 
right  hilarious,  and,  above  the  face  of 
Packer,  made  the  playwright  think  pity 
ingly  of  a  St.  Patrick's  Day  party  holding 
a  noisy  celebration  upon  a  hearse. 

Its  wearer  nodded  solemnly  as  the 
elevator  bounced  up,  flashing,  and  settled 
to  the  level  of  the  floor;  but  the  quick 
drop  through  the  long  shaft  seemed  to 
do  the  stage-manager  a  disproportionate 
amount  of  good.  Halfway  down  he 
emitted  a  heavy  "Whew!"  of  relief  and 
threw  back  his  shoulders.  He  seemed 
to  swell,  to  grow  larger:  lines  verged  into 
the  texture  of  his  face,  disappearing;  and 
with  them  went  care  and  seeming  years. 
Canby  had  casually  taken  him  to  be 
about  forty,  but  so  radical  was  the  trans 
formation  of  him  that,  as  the  distance 
from  his  harrowing  overlord  increased, 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE     119 

the  playwright  beheld  another  kind  of 
creature.  In  place  of  the  placative,  mid 
dle-aged  varlet,  troubled  and  hurrying  to 
serve,  there  stepped  out  of  the  elevator,  at 
the  street  level,  a  deep-chested,  assertive, 
manly  adventurer,  about  thirty,  kindly 
eyed,  picturesque,  and  careless.  The 
green  hat  belonged  to  him  perfectly. 

He  gave  Canby  a  look  of  burlesque 
ruefulness  over  his  shoulder,  the  comedy 
appeal  of  one  schoolboy  to  another  as 
they  leave  a  scolding  teacher  on  the  far 
side  of  the  door.  "  The  governor  does  keep 
himself  worked  up!"  he  laughed,  as  they 
reached  the  street  and  paused.  "If  it 
isn't  one  thing,  it's  some  thing!" 

"Perhaps  it's  rny  play  just  now,"  said 
Canby.  "I  was  afraid,  earlier  this  eve 
ning,  he  meant  to  drop  it.  Making  so 
many  changes  may  have  upset  his  nerves." 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

* '  Lord  bless  your  soul !  No ! ' '  exclaimed 
the  new  Packer.  "  His  nerves  are  all  right ! 
He's  always  the  same !  He  can't  help  it !  ** 

"I  thought  possibly  he  might  have  been 
more  upset  than  usual,"  Canby  said. 
"  There  was  a  critic  or  somethingthat " 

"  No,  no,  Mr.  Canby ! "  Packer  chuckled. 
"New  plays  and  critics,  they  don't  worry 
him  any  more  than  anything  else.  Of 
course  he  isn't  going  to  be  pleased  with  any 
critics.  Most  of  them  give  him  splendid 
notices,  but  they  don't  please  him.  How 
could  they?" 

"He's  always  the  same,  you  think?" 
Canby  said  blankly. 

"Always — always  at  top  pitch,  that  is, 
and  always  unexpected.  You'll  see  as 
you  get  to  know  him.  You  won't  know 
him  any  better  than  you  do  now,  Mr. 
Canby;  you'll  only  know  him  more.  I've 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE     121 

been  with  him  for  four  years — stage- 
manager — hired  man — inaid-of  -all-work 
— order  his  meals  for  him  in  hotels — and 
I  guess  old  Tinker  and  I  know  him  as 
well  as  anybody  does,  but  it's  a  mighty 
big  job  to  handle  him  just  right.  It  keeps 
us  hopping,  but  that's  bread  and  butter. 
Not  much  bread  and  butter  anywhere 
these  days  unless  you  do  hop!  We  all 
have  to  hop  for  somebody ! ' '  He  chuckled 
again,  and  then  unexpectedly  became  so 
serious  he  was  almost  truculent.  "And  I 
tell  you,  Mr.  Canby,"  he  cried,  "by 
George!  I'd  sooner  hop  for  Talbot  Pot 
ter  than  for  any  other  man  that  ever 
walked  the  earth!" 

He  took  a  yellow  walking-stick  from 
under  his  arm,  thrust  the  manuscript 
Potter  had  given  him  into  the  pocket 
pf  his  light  overcoat,  and  bade  his  coin.- 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

panion  good-night  with  a  genial  flourish 
of  the  stick.  "Subway  to  Brooklyn  for 
mine.  Your  play  will  go,  all  right;  don't 
worry  about  that,  Mr.  Canby.  Good 
night  and  good  luck,  Mr.  Canby." 

Canby  went  the  other  way,  marvelling. 

It  was  eleven;  and  for  half  an  hour  the 
theatres  had  been  releasing  their  audiences 
to  the  s  treets ; — the  sidewalks  were  bobbing 
and  fluttering;  automobiles  cometed  by 
bleating  peevishly.  Suddenly,  through  the 
window  of  a  limousine,  brilliantly  lighted 
within,  Canby  saw  the  face  of  Wanda 
Malone,  laughing,  and  embowered  in  white 
furs.  He  stopped,  startled:  then  he  real 
ized  that  Wanda  Malone's  hair  was  not 
red.  The  girl  in  the  limousine  had  red 
hair,  and  was  altogether  unlike  Wanda 
Malone  in  feature  and  expression, 

He  walked  on  angrily. 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE     123 

Immediately  a  slender  girl,  prettily 
dressed,  passed  him.  She  clung  charm 
ingly  to  the  arm  of  a  big  boy;  and  to 
Canby's  first  glance  she  was  Wanda  Ma- 
lone.  Wrenching  his  eyes  from  her,  he 
saw  WTanda  Malone  across  the  street 
getting  into  a  taxicab,  and  then  he  stum 
bled  out  of  the  way  of  a  Wanda  Malone 
who  almost  walked  into  him.  Wherever 
there  was  a  graceful  gesture  or  turn  of  the 
head,  there  was  Wanda  Malone. 

He  wheeled,  and  walked  back  toward 
Broadway,  and  thought  he  caught  a 
glimpse  of  Packer  going  into  a  crowded 
drug-store  near  the  corner.  The  man 
he  took  to  be  Packer  lifted  his  hat  and 
spoke  to  a  girl  who  was  sitting  at  a  table 
and  drinking  soda-water,  but  when  she 
looked  up  and  seemed  to  be  Wanda  Ma 
lone  with  a  blue  veil  down  to  her  nose, 


124    HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

Canby   turned   on  his  heel,   face-about, 
and  headed  violently  for  home. 

When  he  reached  quieter  streets  his 
gait  slackened,  and  he  walked  slowly, 
lost  in  deep  reverie.  By  and  by  he  came 
to  a  halt,  and  stood  still  for  several  min 
utes  without  knowing  it.  Slowly  he  came 
out  of  the  trance,  wondering  where  he 
was.  Then  he  realized  that  his  staring 
eyes  had  halted  him  automatically;  and 
as  they  finally  conveyed  their  information 
to  his  conscious  mind,  he  perceived  that  he 
was  standing  directly  in  front  of  a  saloon, 
and  glaring  at  the  sign  upon  the  window: 

ALES  WINES  LIQUORS  AND  CIGARS 
TIM  MALONE 

At  that,  somewhere  in  his  inside,  he 
cried  out,  in  a  kind  of  anguish:  "Isn't 
there  anything — anywhere — any  more — 
except  Wanda  Malone!" 


IX 

SECOND    act,    ladies    and    gentle 
men!"  cried  Packer,  at  precisely 
ten  o'clock  the  next  morning. 
About  a  dozen  actors  were  chatting  in 
small   groups   upon  the  stage;  three   or 
four  paced  singly,  muttering  and  mildly 
gesticulating,    with   the   fretful   preoccu 
pation   of   people   trying    to    remember; 
two  or  three,  seated,  bent  over  their  type 
written  "sides,"  studying  intently;  and  a 
few,  invisible  from  the  auditorium,  were 
scattered  about  the  rearward  rooms  and 

125 


126    HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

passageways.  Talbot  Potter,  himself, 
was  nowhere  to  be  seen,  and,  what  was 
even  more  important  to  one  tumultu- 
ously  beating  heart  "in  front,"  neither 
was  Wanda  Malone.  Mr.  Stewart  Canby 
in  a  silvery  new  suit,  wearing  a  white 
border  to  his  waistcoat  collar  and  other 
decorations  proper  to  a  new  playwright, 
sat  in  the  centre  of  the  front  row  of  the 
orchestra.  Yesterday  he  had  taken  a 
seat  about  nine  rows  back. 

He  bore  no  surface  signs  of  the  wear 
and  tear  of  a  witches'  night:  riding  his  run 
away  play  and  fighting  the  enchantment 
that  was  upon  him.  Elastic  twenty-seven 
does  not  mark  a  bedless  session  with  violet 
arcs  below  its  eyes; — what  violet  a  witch 
had  used  upon  Stewart  Canby  this  morn 
ing  appeared  as  a  dewy  boutonniere  in  the 
lapel  of  his  new  coat :  he  was  that  far  gone. 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE     127 

Miss  Ellsling  and  a  youth  of  the 
company  took  their  places  near  the  front 
of  the  stage  and  began  the  rehearsal  of 
the  second  act  with  a  dialogue  that  led 
up  to  the  entrance  of  the  star  with  the 
"ingenue,"  both  of  whom  still  remained 
out  of  the  playwright's  range  of  vision. 

As  the  moment  for  their  appearance 
drew  near,  Canby  became,  to  his  own  rage, 
almost  uncontrollably  agitated.  Miss 
Ellsling's  scene,  which  he  should  have 
followed  carefully,  meant  nothing  to  him 
but  a  ticking  off  of  the  seconds  before 
he  should  behold  with  his  physical  eyes 
the  living  presence  of  the  fairy  ghost 
that  had  put  a  spell  upon  him.  He  was 
tremulous  all  over. 

Miss  Ellsling  and  her  companion  came 
to  a  full  stop  and  stood  waiting.  There 
upon  Packer  wont  to  the  rear  of  the 


128     HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 
stage,  leaned  through  an  open  doorway, 
and  spoke  deferentially: 

"Mr.  Potter?  All  ready,  sir.  All  ready, 
Miss — ah — Malone?  " 

Then  he  stepped  back  with  the  air  of 
an  unimportant  person  making  way 
for  his  betters  to  pass  before  him,  while 
Canby's  eyes  fixed  themselves  glassily 
upon  the  shabby  old  doorway  through 
which  an  actual,  breathing  Wanda  Ma- 
lone  was  to  come. 

But  he  was  destined  not  to  see  her  ap 
pear  in  that  expectant  frame.  Twenty 
years  before — though  he  had  forgotten  it 
— in  a  dazzling  room  where  there  was  a 
Christmas  tree,  he  had  uttered  a  shriek  of 
ecstatic  timidity  just  as  a  jingling  Santa 
Claus  began  to  emerge  from  behind  the 
tree,  and  he  had  run  out  of  the  room  and 
out  of  the  house.  He  did  exactly  the 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE     129 

same  thing  now,  though  this  time  the  shriek 
was  not  vocal. 

Suffocating,  he  fled  up  the  aisle  and 
out  into  the  lobby.  There  he  addressed 
himself  distractedly  but  plainly: 

"Jackass!" 

Breathing  heavily,  he  went  out  to  the 
wide  front  steps  of  the  theatre  and  stood, 
sunlit  Broadway  swimming  before  him. 

"Hello,  Canby!" 

A  shabby,  shaggy,  pale  young  man, 
with  hot  eyes,  checked  his  ardent  gait  and 
paused,  extending  a  cordial,  thin  hand,  the 
fingers  browned  at  the  sides  by  cigarettes 
smoked  to  the  bitter  end.  ' '  Rieger , ' '  he  said. 
"Arnold  Rieger.  Remember  me  at  the 
old  Ink  Club  meetings  before  we  broke  up  ? ' ' 

"Yes,"  said  Canby  dimly.  "Yes.  The 
old  Ink  Club.  I  came  out  for  a  breath  of 
air.  Just  a  breath." 


130    HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

"  We  used  to  settle  the  universe  in  that 
little  back  restaurant  room,"  said  Rieger. 
"Not  one  of  us  had  ever  got  a  thing  into 
print — and  me,  I  haven't  yet,  for  that 
matter.  Editors  still  hate  my  stuff.  I've 
kept  my  oath,  though:  I've  never  com 
promised — never  for  a  moment." 

"Yes,"  Canby  responded  feebly,  won 
dering  what  the  man  was  talking  about. 
Wanda  Malone  was  surely  on  the  stage, 
now.  If  he  turned,  walked  about  thirty 
feet,  and  opened  a  door,  he  would  see  her 
— hear  her  speaking! 

"I've  had  news  of  your  success,"  said 
Rieger.  "I  saw  in  the  paper  that  Talbot 
Potter  was  to  put  on  a  play  you'd  written. 
I  congratulate  you.  That  man's  a  great 
artist,  but  he  never  seems  to  get  a  good 
play;  he's  always  much,  much  greater 
than  his  part.  I'm  sure  you've  given 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE     131 

him  a  real  play  at  last.  I  remember  your 
principles:  Realism;  no  compromise! 
The  truth;  no  shirking  it,  no  tampering 
with  it!  You've  stuck  out  for  that — 


you  ve  never  compro — — 

"No.  Oh,  no,"  said  Canby,  waking  up 
a  little.  "Of  course  you've  got  to  make 
a  little  change  or  two  in  plays.  You  see, 
you've  got  to  make  an  actor  like  a  play 
or  he  won't  play  it,  and  if  he  won't  play 
it  you  haven't  got  any  play — you've  only 
got  some  typewriting." 

Rieger  set  his  foot  upon  the  step  and 
rested  his  left  forearm  upon  his  knee,  an 
attitude  comfortable  for  street  debate. 
"Admitting  the  truth  of  that  for  the  sake 
of  argument,  and  only  for  the  moment, 
because  I  don't  for  one  instant  accept  sueh 
a  Jesuitism 

"Yes,"  said  Canby  dreamily.     "Yes." 


132  HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 
And,  with  not  only  apparent  but  genuine 
unconsciousness  of  this  one-time  friend's 
existence,  he  turned  and  walked  back  into 
the  lobby,  and  presently  was  vaguely 
aware  that  somebody  near  the  street  doors 
of  the  theatre  seemed  to  be  in  a  temper. 
Somebody  kept  shouting  "Swell-headed 
pup!"  and  "Go  to  the  devil!"  at  some 
body  else  repeatedly,  but  finally  went 
away,  after  reaching  a  vociferous  climax 
of  even  harsher  epithets  and  instruc 
tions. 

The  departure  of  this  raging  unknown 
left  the  lobby  quiet:  Canby  had  gone  near 
to  the  inner  doors.  Listening  fearfully,  he 
heard  through  these  a  murmurous  baritone 
cadencing:  Talbot  Potter  declaiming  the 
inwardness  of  "Roderick  Hanscom":  and 
then — oh,  bells  of  Elfland  faintly  chiming! 
— the  voice  of  Wanda  Malone! 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE     133 

He  pressed,  trembling,  against  the 
doors,  and  went  in. 

Talbot  Potter  and  Wanda  Malone 
stood  together,  the  two  alone  in  the  great 
hollow  space  of  the  stage.  The  actors 
of  the  company,  silent  and  remote, 
watched  them;  old  Tinker,  halfway  down 
an  aisle,  stood  listening;  and  near  the 
proscenium  two  workmen,  tools  in  their 
hands,  had  paused  in  attitudes  of  ar 
rested  motion.  Save  for  the  voices  of  the 
two  players,  the  whole  vast  cavern  of 
the  theatre  was  as  still  as  the  very  self 
of  silence.  And  the  stirless  air  that  filled 
it  was  charged  with  necromancy. 

Rehearsal  is  like  the  painted  canvas 
without  a  frame;  it  is  more  like  a  plaster 
cast,  most  like  of  all  to  the  sculptor's 
hollow  moulds.  It  needs  the  bronze  to 
bring  a  statue  to  life,  and  it  needs  the 


134    HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

audience  to  bring  a  play  to  life.  Some 
glamour  must  come  from  one  to  the  other; 
some  wind  of  enchantment  must  blow 
between  them — there  must  be  a  magic 
spell.  But  these  two  actors  had  produced 
the  spell  without  the  audience. 

And  yet  they  were  only  reading  a  wist 
ful  little  love-scene  that  Stewart  Canby 
had  written  the  night  before. 

Two  people  were  falling  in  love  with 
each  other,  neither  realizing  it.  And 
these  two  who  played  the  lovers  had 
found  some  hidden  rhythm  that  brought 
them  together  in  one  picture  as  a  chord 
is  one  sound.  They  played  to  each  other 
and  with  each  other  instinctively :  Talbot 
Potter  had  forgotten  "the  smile"  and 
all  the  mechanism  that  went  with  it.  The 
two  held  the  little  breathless  silences  of 
lovers;  they  broke  these  silences  timidly, 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE  135 
and  then  their  movements  and  voices 
ran  together  like  waters  in  a  fountain. 
A  radiance  was  about  them  as  it  is  about 
all  lovers:  they  were  suffused  with  it. 

To  Stewart  Canby,  watching,  they 
seemed  to  move  writhin  a  sorcerer's  circle 
of  enchantment.  Upon  his  disturbed 
mind  there  was  dawning  a  conviction 
that  these  inspired  mummers  were  beings 
apart  from  him,  knowing  things  he  never 
could  know,  feeling  things  he  never  could 
feel,  belonging  to  another  planet  whither 
he  could  never  voyage,  where  strange 
winds  blew  and  all  things  lived  and  grew 
in  a  light  beyond  his  understanding.  For 
the  light  that  shone  in  the  faces  of  these 
two  was  "the  light  that  never  was,  on  sea 
or  land." 

It  had  its  blessing  for  him.  From  that 
moment,  if  he  had  known  it,  this  play, 


136    HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

which  was  being  born  of  so  many  parents, 
was  certain  of  "success,"  of  "popularity," 
and  of  what  quality  of  renown  such  things 
may  bring.  And  he  who  was  to  be  called 
its  author  stood  there  a  Made  Man,  un 
less  some  accident  befell. 

Miss  Ellsling  spoke  and  came  forward, 
another  actor  with  her.  The  scene  was 
over.  There  was  a  clearing  of  throats; 
everybody  moved.  The  stage-carpenter 
and  his  assistant  went  away  blinking, 
like  men  roused  from  deep  sleep.  The 
routine  of  rehearsal  resumed  its  place;  and 
old  Tinker,  who  had  not  stirred  a  muscle, 
rubbed  the  back  of  his  neck  suddenly, 
and  came  up  the  aisle  to  Canby. 

"Good  business!"  he  cried.  "Did  you 
see  that  little  run  off  the  stage  she  made 
when  Miss  Ellsling  came  on?  And  you 
saw  what  he  can  do  when  he  wants  to!" 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE     137 

"He?"  Canby  echoed.  "He?" 
"Played  for  the  scene  instead  of  him 
self.  Oh,  he  can  do  it!  He's  an  old 
hand — got  too  many  tricks  in  the  bag  to 
let  her  get  the  piece  away  from  him— 
but  he's  found  a  girl  that  can  play  with 
him  at  last,  and  he'll  use  every  value  she's 
got.  He  knows  good  property  when  he 
sees  it.  She's  got  a  pretty  good  box  of 
tricks  herself:  stock's  the  way  to  learn 
'em,  but  it's  apt  to  take  the  bloom  off.  It 
hasn't  taken  off  any  of  hers,  the  darlin'! 
What  do  you  think,  Mr.  Canby?" 

To  Canby,  who  hardly  noticed  that 
this  dead  old  man  had  come  to  life,  the 
speech  was  jargon.  The  playwright  was 
preoccupied  with  the  fact  that  Talbot 
Potter  was  still  on  the  stage,  would  con 
tinue  there  until  the  rather  distant  end  of 
the  act,  and  that  the  "ingenue/'  after 


138     HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

completing  the  little  run  at  her  exit,  had 
begun  to  study  the  manuscript  of  her 
part,  and  in  that  absorption  had  dis 
appeared  through  a  door  into  the  rear 
passageway.  Canby  knew  that  she  was 
not  to  be  "on"  again  until  the  next  act, 
and  he  followed  a  desperate  impulse. 

"See  a  person,"  he  mumbled,  and  went 
out  through  the  lobby,  turned  south  to 
the  cross-street,  proceeded  thereby  to  the 
stage-door  of  the  theatre,  and  resolutely 
crossed  the  path  of  the  distrustful  man 
who  lounged  there. 

"Here!"  called  the  distrustful  man. 

"I'm  with  the  show,"  said  Canby,  an 
expression  foreign  to  his  lips  and  a  clear 
case  of  inspiration.  The  distrustful  man 
waved  him  on. 

Wanda  Malone  was  leaning  against  the 
wall  at  the  other  end  of  the  passageway, 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE     139 

studying  her  manuscript.  She  did  not 
look  up  until  he  paused  beside  her. 

"Miss  Malone,"  he  began.  "I  have 
corne — I  have  come — I  have — ah " 

These  were  his  first  words  to  her.  She 
did  nothing  more  than  look  at  him  in 
quiringly,  but  with  such  radiance  that  he 
floundered  to  a  stop .  There  were  only  two 
things  within  his  power  to  do :  he  had  either 
to  cough  or  to  speak  much  too  sweetly. 

"There's  a  draught  here,"  she  said, 
Christian  anxiety  roused  by  the  paroxysm 
which  rescued  him  from  the  damning  al 
ternative.  "You  oughtn't  to  stand  here 
perhaps,  Mr.  Canby." 

"'Canby?"  he  repeated  inquiringly, 
the  name  seeming  new  to  him.  "  Canby?" 

"You're  Mr.  Canby,  aren't  you?" 

"I  meant  where — who—  '  he  stam 
mered.  "How  did  you  know?" 


140    HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

"The  stage-manager  pointed  you  out 
to  me  yesterday  at  rehearsal.  I  was  so 
excited!  You're  the  first  author  I  ever 
saw,  you  see.  I've  been  in  stock  where  we 
don't  see  authors." 

"Do  you — like  it?"  he  said.  "I  mean 
stock.  Do  you  like  stock?  How  much 

do  you  like  stock?  I  ah Again  he 

fell  back  upon  the  faithful  old  device  of 
nervous  people  since  the  world  began. 

"I'm  sure  you  oughtn't  to  stand  in  this 
passageway,"  she  urged. 

"No,  no!"  he  said  hurriedly.  "I  love 
it!  I  love  it!  I  haven't  any  cold.  It's 
the  air.  That's  what  does  it."  He  nodded 
brightly,  with  the  expression  of  a  man 
who  knows  the  answer  to  everything. 
"It's  bad  for  me." 

"Then  you " 

"No,"  he  said,  and  went  back  to  the 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE     141 

beginning.     "I  have  come — I  wanted  to 

come — I  wished  to  say  that  I  wi 

He  put  forth  a  manful  effort  which  made 
him  master  of  the  speech  he  had  planned. 
"I  want  to  thank  you  for  the  way  you 
play  your  part.  What  I  wrote  seemed 
dry  stuff,  but  when  you  act  it,  why,  then, 
it  seems  to  be — beautiful!" 

"Oh!  Do  you  think  so?"  she  cried, 
her  eyes  bedewing  ineffably.  "Do  you 
think  so?" 

"Oh— I— oh!-  -"  He  got  no  further, 
and,  although  a  stranger  to  the  context  of 
this  conversation  might  have  supposed  him 
to  be  speaking  of  a  celebrated  common 
wealth,  Mother  of  Presidents,  his  meaning 
was  sufficiently  clear  to  Wanda  Malone. 

"You're  lovely  to  me,"  she  said,  wiping 
her  eyes.  "Lovely!  I'll  never  forget 
it!  I'll  never  forget  anything  that's  hap- 


142     HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

pened  to  me  all  this  beautiful,  beautiful 
week!" 

The  little  kerchief  she  had  lifted  to 
her  eyes  was  wet  with  tears  not  of  the 
stage.  "It  seems  so  foolish!"  she  said 
bravely.  "It's  because  I'm  so  happy! 
Everything  has  come  all  at  once,  this 
week.  I'd  never  been  in  New  York  be 
fore  in  my  life.  Doesn't  that  seem  funny 
for  a  girl  that's  been  on  the  stage  ever 
since  she  left  school?  And  now  I  am 
here,  all  at  once  I  get  this  beautiful 
part  you've  written,  and  you  tell  me 
you  like  it—  and  Mr.  Potter  says  he  likes 
it.  Oh!  Mr.  Potter's  just  beautiful  to 
me!  Don't  you  think  Mr.  Potter's  won- 


The  truth  about  Mr.  Canby's  opinion 
of  Mr.  Potter  at  this  moment  was  not 
to  the  playwright's  credit.  However,  he 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE     143 

went  only  so  far  as  to  say:  "I  didn't  like 
him  much  yesterday  afternoon." 

"Oh,  no,  no!"  she  said  quickly.  "That 
was  every  bit  my  fault.  I  was  frightened 
and  it  made  me  stupid.  And  he's  just 
beautiful  to  me  to-day!  But  I'd  never 
mind  anything  from  a  man  that  works 
with  you  as  he  does.  It's  the  most  won 
derful  thing !  To  a  woman  who  loves  her 
profession  for  its  own  sake— 

"You  do,  Miss  Malone?" 

"Love  it?"  she  cried.  "Is  there  any 
thing  like  it  in  the  world?" 

"I  might  have  known  you  felt  that, 
from  your  acting,"  he  said,  managing 
somehow  to  be  coherent,  though  it  was 
difficult. 

"Oh,  but  we  all  do!"  she  protested 
eagerly.  "I  believe  all  actors  love  it 
more  than  they  love  life  itself.  Don't 


144     HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

think  I  mean  those  that  never  grew  up 
out  of  their  'show-off'  time  in  childhood. 
Those  don't  count,  in  what  I  mean,  any 
more  than  the  'show-girls'  and  heaven 
knows  what  not  that  the  newspapers 
call  'actresses.'  Oh,  Mr.  Canby,  I  mean 
the  people  with  the  art  and  the  fire  born 
in  them:  those  who  must  come  to  the 
stage  and  who  ought  to  and  who  do.  It 
isn't  because  we  want  to  be  'looked  af 
that  we  go  on  the  stage  and  starve  to  stay 
there !  It's  because  we  want  to  make  pic 
tures — to  make  pictures  of  characters  in 
plays  for  people  in  audiences.  It's  like 
being  a  sculptor  or  painter;  only  we 
paint  and  model  with  ourselves — and  we're 
different  from  sculptors  and  painters  be 
cause  they  do  their  work  in  quiet  studios, 
while  we  do  ours  under  the  tension  of 
great  crowds  watching  every  stroke  we 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE     145 

make — and,  oh,  the  exhilaration  when 
they  show  us  we  make  the  right  stroke ! " 
"Bravo!"  he  said.  "Bravo!" 
"Isn't  it  the  greatest  of  all  the  arts? 
Isn't  it?"  she  went  on  with  the  same  glow 
ing  eagerness.  "We  feed  our  nerves  to 
it,  and  our  lives  to  it,  and  are  glad!  It 
makes  us  different  from  other  people. 
But  what  of  that?  Don't  we  give  our 
selves?  Don't  we  live  and  die  just  to  make 
these  pictures  for  the  world?  Oughtn't 
the  world  to  be  thankful  for  us?  Oughtn't 
it?  Oh,  it  is,  Mr.  Canby;  it  is  thankful 
for  us;  and  I,  for  one,  never  forget  that  a 
Prime  Minister  of  England  was  proud  to 
warm  Davy  Garrick's  breeches  at  the 
grate  for  him!" 

She  clapped  her  hands  together  in  a 
gesture  of  such  spirit  and  fire  that  Canby 
could  have  thrown  his  hat  in  the  air  and 


146     HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

cheered,  she  had  lifted  him  so  clear  of 
his  timidity. 

"Bravo!"  he  cried  again.     "Bravo!" 

At  that  she  blushed.  "What  a  little 
goose  I  am ! "  she  cried.  "  Playing  the  ora 
tor  !  Mr.  Canby ,  you  mustn't  mind " 

"I  won't!" 

"It's  because  I'm  so  happy,"  she  ex 
plained — to  his  way  of  thinking,  divinely. 
"I'm  so  happy  I  just  pour  out  every 
thing.  I  want  to  sing  every  minute.  You 
see,  it  seemed  such  a  long  while  that 
I  was  waiting  for  my  chance.  Some  of 
us  wait  forever,  Mr.  Canby,  and  I  was  so 
afraid  mine  might  never  come.  If  it 
hadn't  come  now  it  might  never  have 
come.  If  I'd  missed  this  one,  I  might 
never  have  had  another.  It  frightens 
me  to  think  of  it — and  I  oughtn't  to  be 
thinking  of  it!  I  ought  to  be  spending 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE  147 
all  my  time  on  my  knees  thanking  God 
that  old  Mr.  Packer  got  it  into  his  head 
that  'The  Little  Minister'  was  a  play 
about  the  Baptists!" 

"Idon'tsee- 

"If  he  hadn't,"  she  said,  "I  wouldn't 
be  here!" 

"God  bless  old  Mr.  Packer!" 

"I  hope  you  mean  it,  Mr.  Canby." 
She  blushed  again,  because  there  was  no 
possible  doubt  that  he  meant  it.  "It 
seems  a  miracle  to  me  that  I  am  here,  and 
that  my  chance  is  here  with  me,  at  last. 
It's  twice  as  good  a  chance  as  it  was 
yesterday,  thanks  to  you.  You've  given 
me  such  beautiful  new  things  to  do  and 
such  beautiful  new  things  to  say.  How 
I'll  work  at  it !  After  rehearsal  this  after 
noon  I'll  learn  every  word  of  it  in  the 
tunnel  before  I  get  to  my  station  in 


148    HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

Brooklyn.  That's  funny,  too,  isn't  it: 
the  first  time  I've  ever  been  to  New  York 
I  go  and  board  over  in  Brooklyn !  But  it's 
a  beautiful  place  to  study,  and  by  the  time 
I  get  home  I'll  know  the  lines  and  have  all 
the  rest  of  the  time  for  the  real  work:  trying 
to  make  myself  into  a  faraway  picture  of 
the  adorable  girl  you  had  in  your  mind 
when  you  wrote  it.  You  see " 

She  checked  herself  again.  "  Oh !  Oh ! " 
she  said,  half-laughing,  half-ashamed. 
"I've  never  talked  so  much  in  my  life! 
You  see  it  seems  to  me  that  the  whole 
world  has  just  burst  into  bloom!" 

She  radiated  a  happiness  that  was  al 
most  tangible ;  itVas  a  glow  so  real  it  seemed 
to  warm  and  light  that  dingy  old  passage 
way.  Certainly  it  warmed  and  lighted 
the  young  man  who  stood  there  with  her. 
For  him,  too,  the  whole  world  was  trans- 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE     149 

figured,  and  life  just  an  orchard  to  walk 
through  in  perpetual  April  morning. 

The  voice  of  Packer  proclaimed:  "Two 
o'clock,  ladies  and  gentlemen !  Rehearsal 
two  o'clock  this  afternoon!" 

The  next  moment  he  looked  into  the 
passageway.  "This  afternoon's  rehear 
sal,  two  o'clock,  Miss— ah— Malone.  Oh, 
Mr.  Canby,  Mr.  Potter  wants  you  to  go 
to  lunch  with  him  and  Mr.  Tinker.  He's 
waiting.  This  way,  Mr.  Canby." 

"In  a  moment,"  said  the  young  play 
wright.  "Miss  Malone,  you  spoke  of 
your  going  home  to  work  at  making  your 
self  into  *  the  adorable  girl'  I  had  in  my 
mind  when  I  wrote  your  part.  It  oughtn't " 
—he  faltered,  growing  red — "it  oughtn't 
to  take  much— much  work!" 

And,  breathless,  he  followed  the  gen 
ially  waiting  Packer. 


X 

YOUR  overcoat,  Mr.  Potter! "  called 
that  faithful   servitor   as  Potter 
was  going  out  through  the  theatre 
with  old  Tinker  and  Canby.     "You've 
forgotten  your  overcoat,  sir." 
"I  don't  want  it." 

"Yes,  sir;  but  it's  a  little  raw  to-day." 
He  leaped  down  into  the  orchestra  from 
the  high  stage,  striking  his  knee  upon  a 
chair  with  violence,  but,  pausing  not  an 
instant  for  that,  came  running  up  the 
aisle  carrying  the  overcoat.  ''You  might 

150 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE     151 

want  it  after  you  get  out  into  the  air, 
Mr.  Potter.  I'm  sure  Mr.  Tinker  or 
Mr.  Canby  won't  mind  taking  charge  of 
it  for  you  until  you  feel  like  putting  it 


on.': 


"  Lord !  Don't  make  such  a  fuss,  Packer. 
Put  it  on  me — put  it  on  me!" 

He  extended  his  arms  behind  him,  and 
was  enveloped  solicitously  and  reverently 
in  the  garment. 

"Confound  him!"  said  Potter  good- 
humouredly,  as  they  came  out  into  the 
lobby.  "It  is  chilly:  he's  usually  right, 
the  idiot!" 

Turning  from  Broadway,  at  the  corner, 
they  went  over  to  Fifth  Avenue,  where 
Potter's  unconsciousness  of  the  people 
who  recognized  and  stared  at  him  was, 
as  usual,  one  of  the  finest  things  he  did, 
either  upon  the  stage  or  "off."  Superb 


152    HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 
performance  as  it  was,  it  went  for  nothing 
with  Stewart  Canby,  who  did  not  even 
see  it,  for  he  walked  entranced,  not  in  a 
town,  but  through  orchards  in  bloom. 

If  Wanda  Malone  had  remained  with 
him,  clear  and  insistent  after  yesterday's 
impersonal  vision  of  her  at  rehearsal,  what 
was  she  now,  when  every  tremulous  lilt 
of  the  zither-string  voice,  and  every  little 
gesture  of  the  impulsive  hands,  and  every 
eager  change  of  the  glowing  face,  were 
fresh  and  living,  in  all  their  beautiful 
reality,  but  a  matter  of  minutes  past? 
He  no  longer  resisted  the  bewitchment: 
he  wanted  all  of  it.  His  companions 
and  himself  were  as  trees  walking,  and 
when  they  had  taken  their  seats  at  a 
table  in  the  men's  restaurant  of  a  hotel 
where  he  had  never  been,  he  was  not 
roused  from  his  rapturous  apathy  even  by 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE     153 

the  conduct  of  probably  the  most  re 
markable  maitre  d'hotel  in  the  world. 

"You  don't  git  'em!"  said  this  per 
sonage  briefly,  when  Potter  had  ordered 
chops  and  "ceufs  a  la  creole"  and  lettuce 
salad,  from  a  card.  "You  got  to  eat  par 
tridge  and  asparagus  tips  salad!" 

And  he  went  away,  leaving  the  terrible 

!  Potter  resigned  and  unrebellious. 
The  partridge  was  undeniable  when  it 
came :  a  stuffed  man  would  have  eaten  it. 
But  Talbot  Potter  and  his  two  guests  did 
little  more  than  nibble  it:  they  neither  ate 
nor  talked,  and  yet  they  looked  anything 
but  unhappy.  Detached  from  their  sur 
roundings,  as  they  sat  over  their  coffee, 
they  might  have  been  taken  to  be  three 
poetic  gentlemen  listening  to  a  serenade. 
After  a  long  and  apparently  satisfac 
tory  silence,  Talbot  Potter  looked  at  his 


154     HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

watch,  but  not,  as  it  proved,  to  see  if  it 
was  time  to  return  to  the  theatre,  his 
ensuing  action  being  to  send  a  messenger 
to  procure  a  fresh  orchid  to  take  the  place 
of  the  one  that  had  begun  to  droop  a  little 
from  his  buttonhole.  He  attached  the 
new  one  with  an  attentive  gravity  shared 
by  his  companions. 

"Good  thing,  a  boutonniere,"  he  ex 
plained.  "Lighten  it  up  a  little.  Re 
hearsal's  dry  work,  usually.  Thinking 
about  it  last  night:  Why  not  lighten  it  up 
a  little?  Why  shouldn't  an  actor  dress 
as  well  for  his  company  of  fellow- workers 
as  he  would  for  a  company  of  strangers 
at  a  reception?  Ought  to  make  it  as 
cheerful  as  we  can." 

"Yes,"  said  Tinker,  nodding.  "Some 
thing  in  that.  I  believe  they  work  better. 
I  must  say  I  never  saw  much  better 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE     155 

work  than  those  people  were  doing  this 
morning.  It  was  a  fine  rehearsal." 

"It's  a  fine  company,"  Potter  said 
warmly.  "They're  the  best  people  I  ever 
had.  They're  all  good,  every  one  of 
them,  and  they're  putting  their  hearts 
into  this  play.  It's  the  kind  of  work  that 
makes  me  proud  to  be  an  actor.  I  am 
proud  to  be  an  actor!  Is  there  anything 
better?"  He  touched  the  young  play 
wright  on  the  arm,  a  gesture  that  hinted 
affection.  "Stewart  Canby,"  he  said, 
"I  want  to  tell  you  I  think  we're  going 
to  make  a  big  thing  out  of  this  play.  It's 
going  to  be  the  best  I've  ever  done.  It's 
going  to  be  beautiful!" 

From  the  doorway  into  the  lobby  of  the 
hotel  there  came  a  pretty  sound  of  girlish 
voices  whispering  and  laughing  excitedly, 
and,  glancing  that  way,  the  three  men  be- 


156     HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

held  a  group  of  peering  nymphs  who  fled, 
delighted. 

"Ladies  stop  to  rubber  at  Mr.  Potter," 
explained  the  remarkable  headwaiter  over 
the  star's  shoulder.  "Mr.  Potter,  it's 
time  you  got  marrit,  anyhow.  You  git 
marrit,  you  don't  git  stared  at  so  much!" 
He  paused  not  for  a  reply,  but  hastened 
away  to  countermand  the  order  of  an 
other  customer. 

"Married,"  said  Potter  musingly. 
"Well,  there  is  such  a  thing  as  remaining 
a  bachelor  too  long — even  for  an  actor." 

"Widower, either,"  assented  Mr.  Tinker 
as  from  a  gentle  reverie.  "  A  man's  never 
too  old  to  get  married." 

His  employer  looked  at  him  somewhat 
disapprovingly,  but  said  nothing;  and 
presently  the  three  rose,  without  vocal 
suggestion  from  any  of  them,  and  strolled 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE     157 

thoughtfully  back  to  the  theatre,  pausing 
a  moment  by  the  way,  while  Tinker 
bought  a  white  carnation  for  his  button 
hole.  There  was  a  good  deal,  he  re 
marked  absent-mindedly,  in  what  Mr. 
Potter  had  said  about  lightening  up  a 
rehearsal. 

Probably  there  never  was  a  more  light- 
ened-up  rehearsal  than  that  afternoon's. 
Potter's  amiability  continued; — nay,  it 
increased:  he  was  cordial;  he  was  angelic; 
he  was  exalted  and  unprecedented.  A 
stranger  would  have  thought  Packer  the 
person  in  control;  and  the  actors,  losing 
their  nervousness,  were  allowed  to  dis 
play  not  only  their  energy  but  their  in 
telligence.  The  stage  became  a  cheery 
workshop,  where  ambition  flourished  and 
kindness  was  the  rule.  For  thus  did  the 
starry  happiness  that  glowed  within  the 


158    HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

beatific  bosom  of  the  little  "ingenue" 
make  Arcady  around  her. 

At  four  o'clock  Talbot  Potter  stepped 
to  the  front  of  the  stage  and  lifted  his 
hand  benevolently.  "That  will  do  for 
to-day,"  he  said,  facing  the  company. 
"Ladies  and  gentlemen,  I  thank  you.  I 
have  never  had  a  better  rehearsal,  and  I 
think  it  is  only  your  due  to  say  you  have 
pleased  me  very  much,  indeed.  I  cannot 
tell  you  how  much.  I  feel  strongly  as 
sured  of  our  success  in  this  play.  Again 
I  thank  you.  Ladies  and  gentlemen" — 
he  waved  his  hand  in  dismissal — "till 
to-morrow  morning." 

"By  Joles!"  old  Carson  Tinker  mut 
tered.  "I  never  knew  anything  like  it!" 

"Oh— ah— Packer,"  called  the  star, 
as  the  actors  moved  toward  the  doors. 
"Packer,  ask  Miss — Malone  to  wait  a 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE  159 
moment.  I  want— I'd  like  to  go  over  a 
little  business  in  the  next  act  before  to 
morrow." 

"Yes,  Mr.  Potter?"  It  was  she  who 
answered,  turning  eagerly  to  him. 

"In  a  moment,  Miss  Malone."  He 
spoke  to  the  stage-manager  in  a  low  tone, 
and  the  latter  came  down  into  the  audi 
torium,  where  Canby  and  Tinker  had 
remained  in  their  seats. 

"He  says  for  you  not  to  wait,  gentle 
men.  There's  nothing  more  to  do  this 
afternoon,  and  he  may  be  detained  quite 
a  time." 

The  violet  boutonniere  and  the  white 
carnation  went  somewhat  reluctantly  up 
the  aisle  together,  and,  after  a  last  glance 
back  at  the  stage  from  the  doorway, 
found  themselves  in  the  colder  air  of  the 
lobby,  a  little  wilted. 


160     HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

Bidding  Tinker  farewell,  on  the  steps 
of  the  theatre,  Canby  walked  briskly 
out  to  the  Park,  and  there,  abating  his 
energy,  paced  the  loneliest  paths  he  could 
find  until  long  after  dark.  They  were 
not  lonely  for  him:  a  radiant  presence 
went  with  him  through  the  twilight. 
She  was  all  about  him :  in  the  blue  bright 
ness  of  the  afterglow,  in  the  haze  of  the 
meadow  stretches,  and  in  the  elusive  wood 
land  scents  that  vanished  as  he  caught 
them ; — she  was  in  the  rosy  vapour  wreaths 
on  the  high  horizon,  in  the  laughter  of 
children  playing  somewhere  in  the  dark 
ness,  in  the  twinkling  of  the  lights  that 
began  to  show — for  now  she  was  wherever 
a  lover  finds  his  lady,  and  that  is  every 
where.  He  went  over  and  over  their 
talk  of  the  morning,  rehearsing  wonder 
ful  things  he  would  say  to  her  upon  the 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE     161 

morrow,  and  taking  the  liberty  of  suggest 
ing  replies  from  her  even  more  wonderful. 
It  was  a  rhapsody:  he  was  as  happy  as 
Tom  o'  Bedlam. 

By  and  by,  he  went  to  a  restaurant  in 
Llic  Park  and  ordered  food  to  be  brought 
him.  Then,  after  looking  at  it  with  an 
expression  of  fixed  animation  for  half  an 
hour,he  paid  for  it  and  went  home.  He  let 
himself  into  the  boarding-house  quietly, 
having  hazy  impressions  that  he  was  not 
popular  there,  also  that  it  might  be  em 
barrassing  to  encounter  Miss  Cornish 
in  the  hall;  and,  after  reconnoitring  the 
stairway,  went  cautiously  up  to  his 
room. 

Three  minutes  later  he  came  bounding 
down  again,  stricken  white,  and  not  caring 
if  he  encountered  the  devil.  On  his  table 
he  had  found  a  package — the  complete 


162    HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

manuscript  of  "Roderick  Hanscom"  and 
this  scrawl: 

CANBY: 

I  can't  produce  your  play — everything  off. 
Y'rs, 

TAL'T  P'B. 


XI 

CARSON    TINKER    was   in    the 
elevator    at    the    Patheon,    and 
the  operator  was  closing  the  door 
thereof,    about   to   ascend,    but   delayed 
upon  a  sound  of  running  footsteps  and  a 
call  of  "Up!"     Stewart  Canby  plunged 
into   the   cage;  his   hat,  clutched  in  his 
hand,  disclosing  emphatically  that  he  had 
been  at  his  hair  again. 

"What's    he    mean?"    he    demanded 
fiercely.     "  What  have  /  done? " 

163 


164     HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

"What's  the  matter?"  inquired  the 
calm  Tinker. 

"What's  he  called  it  off  for?" 

"Called  what  off?' 

"The  play!     My  play!" 

"I  don't  know  what  you're  talking 
about.  I  haven't  seen  him  since  re 
hearsal.  His  Japanese  boy  called  me  on 
the  telephone  a  little  while  ago  and  told 
me  he  wanted  to  see  me." 

"He  did?"  cried  the  distracted  Canby. 
"The  Japanese  boy  wanted  to  see " 

"No,"   Tinker   corrected.     "He   did." 

"And  you  haven't  heard " 

"Twelfth,"  urged  the  operator,  having 
opened  the  door.  "  Twelfth,  if  you  please, 
gentlemen." 

"I  haven't  heard  anything  to  cause 
excitement,"  said  Tinker,  stepping  out. 
"I  haven't  heard  anything  at  all.*'  He 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE     165 

pressed   the    tiny    disc    beside   the   door 
of   Potter's   apartment.     "What's  upset 

you?" 

With  a  pathetic  gesture  Canby  handed 
him  Potter's  note.  4<  What  have  /  done? 
What  does  he  think  I've  done  to  him?" 

Tinker  read  the  note  and  shook  his 
head.  "The  Lord  knows!  You  see  he's 
all  moods,  and  they  change — they  change 
any  time.  He  knows  his  business,  but 
you  can't  count  on  him.  He's  liable  to 
do  anything — anything  at  all." 

"But  what  reason— 

The  Japanese  boy,  Sato,  stood  bobbing 
in  the  doorway. 

"Mis'  Potter  kassee,"  he  said  courte 
ously.  "Ve'y  so'y  Mis'  Potter  kassee 
nobody." 

"Can't  see  us?"  said  Tinker.  "Yes,  he 
can.  You  telephoned  me  that  he  wanted 


166     HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

to  see  me,  not  over  a  quarter  of  an  hour 

ago." 

Sato  beamed  upon  him  enthusiastically. 
"Yisso,  yisso!  See  Mis'  Tinker,  yisso! 
You  come  in,  Mis'  Tinker.  Ve'y  so'y. 
Mis'  Potter  kassee  nobody." 

"You  mean  he'll  see  Mr.  Tinker  but 
won't  see  anybody  else?"  cried  the  play 
wright. 

"Yisso,"  said  Sato,  delighted.  "Ve'y 
so'y.  Mis'  Potter  kassee  nobody." 

"I  will  see  him.    I " 

"Wait.  It's  all  right,"  Tinker  reas- 
suredhim  soothingly.  "  It's  all  right,  Sato. 
You  go  and  tell  Mr.  Potter  that^I'm  here 
and  Mr.  Canby  came  with  me." 

"Yisso."  Sato  stood  back  from  the 
door  obediently,  and  they  passed  into 
the  hall.  "You  sidowm,  please." 

"Tell  him  we're  waiting  in  here,"  said 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE     167 

Tinker,  leading  the  way  into  the  cream- 
coloured  salon. 

"Yisso."  Sato  disappeared. 

The  pretty  room  was  exquisitely  cheer 
ful,  a  coal  fire  burning  rosily  in  the  neat 
little  grate,  but  for  its  effect  upon  Canby 
it  might  have  been  a  dentist's  anteroom. 
He  was  unable  to  sit,  and  began  to  pace 
up  and  down,  shampooing  himself  with 
both  hands. 

"I've  racked  my  brains  every  step  of 
the  way  here,"  he  groaned.  "All  I  could 
think  of  was  that  possibly  I've  uncon 
sciously  paralleled  some  other  play  that  I 
never  saw.  Maybe  some  one's  told  him 
about  a  plot  like  mine.  Such  things  must 
happen — they  do  happen,  of  course — be 
cause  all  plots  are  old.  But  I  can't  be 
lieve  my  treatment  of  it  could  be  so 
like " 


168     HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

"I  don't  think  it's  that,"  said  Tinker. 
"It's  never  anything  you  expect — with 
him." 

"Well,  what  else  can  it  be?"  the  play 
wright  demanded.  "I  haven't  done  any 
thing  to  offend  him.  What  have  I  done 
that  he  should " 

"You'd  better  sit  down,"  the  manager 
advised  him.  "  Going  plumb  crazy  never 
helped  anything  yet  that  I  know  of." 

"But,  good  heavens !     How  can  I — — 

"Sh!"  whispered  Tinker. 

A  tragic  figure  made  its  appearance 
upon  the  threshold  of  the  inner  doorway: 
Potter,  his  face  set  with  epic  woe,  gloom 
burning  in  his  eyes  like  the  green  fire  in  a 
tripod  at  a  funeral  of  state.  His  plastic 
hair  hung  damp  and  irregular  over  his 
white  brow — a  wreath  upon  a  tombstone 
in  the  rain — and  his  garment,  from  throat 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE     1C9 

to  ankle,  was  a  dressing-gown  of  dead 
black,  embroidered  in  purple;  soiled,  mag 
nificent,  awful.  Beneath  its  midnight 
border  were  his  bare  ankles,  final  testi 
mony  to  his  desperate  condition,  for  only 
in  ultimate  despair  does  a  suffering  man 
remove  his  trousers.  The  feet  themselves 
were  distractedly  not  of  the  tableau, 
being  immersed  in  bedroom  shoes  of  gay 
white  fur  shaped  in  a  Romeo  pattern; 
but  this  was  the  grimmest  touch  of  all— 
the  merry  song  of  mad  Ophelia. 

"Mr.  Potter!"  the  playwright  began, 

«T » 

Potter  turned  without  a  word  and  dis 
appeared  into  the  room  whence  he  came. 

"Mr.  Potter!"  Canby  started  to  follow. 
"Mr  Pot-  -" 

"SA/"  whispered  Tinker. 

Potter  appeared  again  upon  the  thres- 


170    HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

hold.  In  one  hand  he  held  a  large  gob 
let;  in  the  other  a  bottle  of  Bourbon 
whiskey,  just  opened.  With  solemn  tread 
he  approached  a  delicate  table,  set  the 
goblet  upon  it,  and  lifted  the  bottle  high 
above. 

"I  am  in  no  condition  to  talk  to  any 
body,"  he  said  hoarsely.  "I  am  about 
to  take  my  first  drink  of  spirits  in  five 
years." 

And  he  tilted  the  bottle.  The  liquor 
clucked  and  guggled,  plashed  into  the 
goblet,  and  splashed  upon  the  table;  but 
when  he  set  the  bottle  down  the  glass 
was  full  to  its  capacious  brim,  and  looked, 
upon  the  little  "Louis  Sixteenth"  table, 
like  a  sot  at  the  Trianon.  Potter  stepped 
back  and  pointed  to  it  majestically. 

"That"  he  said,  "is  the  size  of  the 
drink  I  am  about  to  take!" 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE     171 

"Mr.  Potter,"  said  Canby  hotly,  "will 
you  tell  me  what's  the  matter  with  my 
play?  Haven't  I  made  every  change  you 
suggested?  Haven't — — - 

Potter  tossed  his  arms  above  his  head 
and  flung  himself  full  length  upon  the 
chaise  longue. 

"STOP  it!"  he  shouted.  "I  won't  be 
pestered.  I  won't!  Nothing's  the  matter 
with  your  play!" 

"Then  what-    -" 

Potter  swung  himself  round  to  a  sitting 
position  and  hammered  with  his  open 
palm  upon  his  knee  for  emphasis:  " Noth 
ing's  the  matter  with  it,  I  tell  you!  I 
simply  won't  play  it!" 

"Why  not?" 

"I  simply  won't  play  it!  I  don't  like 
it!" 

The  playwright  dropped  into  a  chair, 


172     HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 
open-mouthed.      "Will  you  tell  me  why 
you  ever  accepted  it?" 

"I  don't  like  any  play!     I  hate  'em  all! 
I'm  through  with  'em  all !   I'm  through  with 
the  whole  business!    'Show  business!" 
He  repeated  the  phrase  with  concentrated 
bitterness.    "'Show-business!'    Faugh!" 

Old  Tinker  regarded  him  thoughtfully, 
then  inquired :  "  Gone  back  on  it  ?  " 

"I  tell  you  I'm  going  to  buy  a  farm!" 
He  sprang  up,  went  to  the  mantel  and 
struck  it  a  startling  blow  with  his  fist, 
which  appeared  to  calm  him  some 
what — for  a  moment.  "I've  been  think 
ing  of  it  for  a  long  time.  I  ought  never 
to  have  been  in  this  business  at  all,  and 
I'm  going  to  live  in  the  country.  Oh,  I'm 
in  my  right  mind!"  He  paused  to  glare 
indignantly  in  response  to  old  Tinker's 
steady  gaze.  "  Of  course  you  think  'some- 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE     173 

thing's  happened'  to  upset  me.  Well, 
nothing  has.  Nothing  of  the  slightest 
consequence  has  occurred  since  I  saw  you 
at  rehearsal.  Can't  a  man  be  allowed  to 
think?  I  just  came  home  here  and  got 
to  thinking  of  the  kind  of  life  I  lead— 
and  I  decided  that  I'm  tired  of  it.  And 
I'm  not  going  to  lead  it  any  longer.  That's 
all." 

"Ah,"  said  Tinker  quietly.  "Nerves." 
Talbot  Potter  appealed  to  the  universe 
with  a  passionate  gesture.  "Nerves!"  he 
cried  bitterly.  "Yes,  that's  what  they 
say  when  an  actor  dares  to  think.  '  Go  on ! 
Play  your  part !  Be  a  marionette  forever ! ' 
That's  what  you  tell  us !  f  Slave  for  your 
living,  you  sordid  little  puppet!  Squirm 
and  sweat  and  strut,  but  don't  you  ever 
dare  to  think!9  You  tell  us  that  because 
you  know  if  we  ever  did  stop  to  think  for 


174    HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

one  instant  about  ourselves  you  wouldn't 
have  any  actors !  Actors !  Faugh !  What 
do  we  get,  I  ask  you?" 

He  strode  close  to  Tinker  and  shook  a 
frantic  forefinger  within  a  foot  of  the 
quiet  old  fellow's  face. 

"What  do  I  get?"  he  demanded,  pas 
sionately.  "Do  you  think  it  means  any 
thing  to  me  that  some  fat  old  woman  sees 
me  making  love  to  a  sawdust  actress  at 
a  matinee  and  then  goes  home  and  hates 
her  fat  old  husband  across  the  dinner- 
table?" 

He  returned  to  the  fireplace,  seeming 
appeased,  at  least  infinitesimally,  by  this 
thought.  "There  wouldn't  even  be  that, 
except  for  the  mystery.  It's  only  because 
I'm  mysterious  to  them — the  way  a  man 
always  thinks  the  girl  he  doesn't  know  is 
prettier  than  the  one  he's  with.  What's 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE     175 

that  got  to  do  with  acting?  What  is  act 
ing,  anyhow?"  His  voice  rose  passion 
ately  again.  "I'll  tell  you  one  thing  it  is: 

MM 

It's  the  most  sordid  profession  in  this 
devilish  world!" 

He  strode  to  the  centre  of  the  room. 
"It's  at  the  bottom— in  the  muck!  That's 
where  it  is.  And  it  ought  to  be!  What 
am  I,  out  there  on  that  silly  platform 
they  call  a  stage?  A  fool,  that's  all, 
making  faces,  and  pretending  to  be  some 
body  with  another  name,  for  two  dollars ! 
A  monkey-on-a-stick  for  the  children !  Of 
course  the  world  despises  us !  Why  should 
n't  it?  It  calls  us  mummers  and  mounte 
banks,  and  that's  what  we  are!  Buf 
foons!  We  aren't  men  and  women  at  all 
—we're  strolling  players!  We're  gypsies! 
One  of  us  marries  a  broker's  daughter  and 
her  relatives  say  she's  married  'a  damned 


176     HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

actor!'  That's  what  they  say — 'a  damned 
actor!'  Great  heavens,  Tinker,  can't  a 
man  get  tired  of  being  call  a  'damned 
actor'  without  your  making  all  this  up 
roar  over  it — squalling  ( nerves9  in  my  face 
till  I  wish  I  was  dead  and  done  with 
it!" 

He  went  back  to  the  fireplace  again, 
but  omitted  another  dolorous  stroke  upon 
the  mantel.  "And  look  at  the  women  in 
the  profession,"  he  continued,  as  he 
turned  to  face  his  visitors.  "My  soul! 
Look  at  them!  Nothing  but  sawdust- 
sawdust — sawdust!  Do  you  expect  to  go 
on  acting  with  sawdust?  Making  saw 
dust  love  to  sawdust?  Sawdust,  I  tell 
you !  Sawdust — sawdust — saw " 

"Oh,  no,"  said  Tinker  easily.      "Not 
all.     Not  by  any  means.     No." 

"Show  me  one  that  isn't  sawdust!"  the 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE     177 
tragedian  cried  fiercely.     'fcShow  me  just 


one!" 


"We-11,"  said  Tinker  with  extraor 
dinary  deliberation,  "to  start  near  home: 
Wanda  Malone." 

Potter  burst  into  terrible  laughter.  "  All 
sawdust!  That's  why  I  discharged  her 
this  afternoon." 

"You  what?"  Canby  shouted  incredu 
lously. 

"I  dismissed  her  from  my  company," 
said  Potter  with  a  startling  change  to  icy 
calmness.  "I  dismissed  her  from  my 
company  this  afternoon." 

Old  Tinker  leaned  forward.  "You 
didn't!" 

Potter's  iciness  increased.  "Shall  I  re 
peat  it?  I  was  obliged  to  dismiss  Miss 
Wanda  Malone  from  my  company,  this 
afternoon,  after  rehearsal." 


178    HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 
"Why?"  Canby  gasped. 
"Because,"  said  Potter,  with  the  same 
calmness,  "she  has  an  utterly  common 
place  mind." 

Canby  rose  in  agitation,  quite  unable, 
for  that  moment,  to  speak;  but  Tinker, 
still  leaning  forward,  gazing  intently  at 
the  face  of  the  actor,  made  a  low,  long- 
drawn  sound  of  wonder  and  affirmation, 
the  slow  exclamation  of  a  man  compre 
hending  what  amazes  him.  "  So  that's  it ! " 
"  Besides  being  intensely  ordinary,"  said 
Potter,  with  superiority,  "I  discovered 
that  she  is  deceitful.  That  has  nothing 
whatever  to  do  with  my  decision  to  leave 
the  stage. ' '  He  whirled  upon  Tinker  sud 
denly,  and  shouted:  "No  matter  what 
you  think!" 

"No,"  said  Tinker.     "No  matter." 
Potter  laughed.     "  Talbot  Potter  leaves 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE     179 

the  stage  because  a  little  *  ingenue '  under 
study  tries  to  break  the  rules  of  his  com 
pany  !  Likely,  isn't  it?" 

"Looks  so,"  said  old  Tinker. 

"Does  it?"  retorted  Potter  with  rising 
fury.  "Then  I'll  tell  you,  since  you  seem 
not  to  know  it,  that  I'm  not  going  to 
leave  the  stage!  Can't  a  man  give  vent 
to  his  feelings  once  in  his  life  without 
being  caught  up  and  held  to  it  by  every 
old  school-teacher  that's  stumbled  into 
the  '  show-business '  by  mistake !  We're 
going  right  on  with  this  play,  I  tell  you; 
we  rehearse  it  to-morrow  morning  just 
the  same  as  if  this  hadn't  happened.  Only 
there  will  be  a  new  6  ingenue'  in  Miss 
Malone's  place.  People  can't  break  iron 
rules  in  my  company.  Maybe  they  could 
in  Mounet-Sully's,  but  they  can't  in 
mine!" 


180    HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

"What  rule  did  she  break?"  Canby's 
voice  was  unsteady.  "What  rule?" 

"Yes,"  Tinker  urged.  "Tell  us  what 
it  was." 

"After  rehearsal,"  the  star  began  with 

dignity,  "I  was — I "  He  paused. 

"I  was  disappointed  in  her." 

"Ye-es?"  drawled  Tinker  encourag 
ingly. 

Potter  sent  him  a  vicious  glance,  but 
continued:  "I  had  hopes  of  her  intel 
ligence — as  an  actress.  She  seemed  to 
have,  also,  a  fairly  attractive  personality. 
I  felt  some  little — ah,  interest  in  her,  per 
sonally.  There  is  something  about  her 
that — — "  Again  he  paused.  "I  talked 
to  her — about  her  part — at  length;  and 
finally  I — ah — said  I  should  be  glad  to 
walk  home  with  her,  as  it  was  after  dark. 
She  said  no,  she  wouldn't  let  me  take  so 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE     181 

much  trouble,  because  she  lived  almost 
at  the  other  end  of  Brooklyn.  It  seemed 
to  me  that — ah,  she  is  very  young — you 
both  probably  noticed  that — so  I  said  I 
would — that  is,  I  offered  to  drive  her 
home  in  a  taxicab.  She  thanked  me,  but 
said  she  couldn't.  She  kept  saying  that 
she  was  sorry,  but  she  couldn't.  It  seemed 
very  peculiar,  and,  in  fact,  I  insisted.  I 
asked  her  if  she  objected  to  me  as  an 
escort,  and  she  said,  'Oh,  no!'  and  got 
more  and  more  embarrassed.  I  wanted 
to  know  what  was  the  matter  and  why 
she  couldn't  seem  to  like — that  is,  I  talked 
very  kindly  to  her,  very  kindly  indeed. 
Nobody  could  have  been  kinder!"  He 
cleared  his  throat  loudly  and  firmly,  with 
an  angry  look  at  Tinker.  "I  say  nobody 
could  have  been  kinder  to  an  obscure 
member  of  the  company  than  I  was  to 


182    HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

Miss  Malone.  But  I  was  decided.  That's 
all.  That's  all  there  was  to  it.  I  was 
merely  kind.  That's  all."  He  waved 
his  hand  as  in  dismissal  of  the  subject. 

"All?"  repeated  Canby.  "All?  You 
haven't " 

"Oh,  yes."  Potter  seemed  surprised 
at  his  own  omission.  "  Oh,  yes.  Right  in 
the  midst  of — of  what  I  was  saying — she 
blurted  out  that  she  couldn't  let  me  take 
her  home,  because  'Lancelot'  was  waiting 
for  her  at  a  corner  drug-store." 

"Lancelot!"  There  was  a  catch  of 
dismay  in  Canby's  outcry. 

"That's  what  7  said,  'Lancelot'!" 
cried  Potter,  more  desolately  than  he 
intended.  "It  seems  they've  been  meet 
ing  after  rehearsal,  in  their  damn  corner 
drug-store.  Lancelot!"  His  voice  rose 
in  fury.  "If  I'd  known  I  had  a  man 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE     183 

named  Lancelot  in  my  company  I'd  have 
discharged  him  long  ago!  If  I'd  known 
it  was  his  name  I'd  have  shot  him. 
4 Lancelot!'  He  came  sneaking  in  there 
just  after  she'd  blundered  it  all  out  to 
me.  Got  uneasy  because  she  didn't 
come,  and  came  to  see  what  was  the 
matter.  Naturally,  I  discharged  them 
both,  on  the  spot !  I've  never  had  a  rule  of 
my  company  broken  yet — and  I  never  will ! 
He  didn't  say  a  word.  He  didn't  dare." 

"  Who?  "  shouted  Canby  and  old  Tinker 
together. 

"Lancelot!"  said  Potter  savagely. 

"Who?" 

" Packer!  His  first  name's  Lancelot, 
the  hypocrite!  L.  Smith  Packer!  She's 
Mrs.  Packer!  They  were  married  two 
days  before  rehearsals  began.  She's  Mrs. 
L.  Smith  Packer!" 


XII 

A  THE  sound  of  the  furious  voice 
stopped  short,  there  fell  a  stricken 
silence  upon  these  three  men. 
Old  Carson  Tinker's  gaze  drifted  down 
ward  from  his  employer's  face.     He  sat, 
then,  gazing  into  the  rosy  little  fire  until 
something   upon   the   lapel   of   his  coat 
caught     his     attention — a     wilted     and 
disreputable    carnation.      He    threw    it 
into  the  fire;  and,  with  a  sombre  satis 
faction,   watched   it   sizzle.      This   brief 
pleasure  ended,  he  became  expressionless 

184 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE     185 

and  relapsed  into  complete  mummifica 
tion. 

Potter  cleared  his  throat  several  times, 
and  as  many  times  seemed  about  to  speak, 
and  did  not;  but  finally,  hearing  a  murmur 
from  the  old  man  gazing  at  the  fire,  he 
requested  to  be  informed  of  its  nature. 

"What?"  Tinker  asked,  feebly. 

"I  said:  'What  are  you  mumbling 
about?'" 

"Nothing/' 

"What  was  it  you  said?" 

"I  said  it  was  the  bride-look,"  said 
the  old  man  gently.  "That's  what  it 
was  about  her — the  bride-look." 

"The  bride-look!" 

It  was  a  word  that  went  deep  into 
the  mourning  heart  of  the  playwright. 
"The  bride-look!"  That  was  it:  the, 
bride's  happiness! 


186     HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

"She  had  more  than  that,"  said  Potter 
peevishly,  but,  if  the  others  had  noticed  it 
his  voice  shook.  "She  could  act!  And  I 
don't  know  how  the  devil  to  get  along  with 
out  that  hypocrite .  Just  like  her  to  marry 
the  first  regular  man  that  asked  her!" 

Then  young  Stewart  Canby  had  a  vision 
of  a  room  in  a  boarding-house  far  over  in 
Brooklyn,  and  of  two  poor,  brave  young 
people  there,  and  of  a  loss  more  actual 
than  his  own — a  vision  of  a  hard-working, 
careworn,  stalwart  Packer  trying  to  com 
fort  a  weeping  little  bride  who  had  lost 
her  chance — the  one  chance — "that  might 
never  have  come ! " 

Something  leaped  into  generous  life 
within  him. 

"I  think  I  was  almost  going  to  ask  her 
to  marry  me,  to-morrow,"  he  said,  turning 
to  Talbot  Potter.  "But  I'm  glad  Packer's 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE     187 

the  man.  For  years  he's  been  a  kind  of 
nurse  for  you,  Mr.  Potter.  And  that's 
what  she  needs — a  nurse — because  she's 
a  genius,  too.  And  it  will  all  be  wasted 
if  she  doesn't  get  her  chance!" 

"Are  you  asking  me  to  take  her  back?  " 
Potter  cried  fiercely.  "Do  you  think  I'll 
break  one  of  my  iron— 

"We  couldn't  all  have  married  her!" 
said  the  playwright  with  a  fine  inspira 
tion.  "But  if  you  take  her  back  we  can 
all  see  her — every  day!" 

The  actor  gazed  upon  him  sternly,  but 
with  sensitive  lips  beginning  to  quiver. 
He  spoke  uncertainly. 

"Well,"  he  began.  "I'm  no  stubborn 
Frenchman— 

"Do    it!"   cried   Canby. 

Then  Potter's  expression  changed: 
he  looked  queer. 


188    HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

He  clapped  his  hands  loudly; — Sato 
appeared. 

"Sato,  take  that  stuff  out."  He  pointed 
to  the  untouched  whiskey.  "Order  sup 
per  at  ten  o'clock — for  five  people.  Cham 
pagne.  Orchids.  Get  me  a  taxicab  in 
half  an  hour." 

"Yisso!" 

Tinker  rose,  astounded.  "Taxicab? 
Where  you — — " 

"To  Brooklyn!"  shouted  Potter  with 
shining  eyes.  "She'll  drive  with  me  if 
I  bring  them  both,  I  guess,  won't  she?" 
He  began  to  sing: 

"For  to-night  we'll  merry,  merry  be! 
For  to-night  we'll  merry,  merry  be " 

Leaping  uproariously  upon  the  aged 
Tinker,  he  caught  him  by  the  waist  and 
waltzed  him  round  and  round  the  room. 

THE   END 


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